


Accidental Nesting

by greenflyer13



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Peter Parker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF May Parker (Spider-Man), Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heat Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Oblivious Peter Parker, Oblivious Wade Wilson, Omega Wade Wilson, Slow Burn, Wade Wilson has Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenflyer13/pseuds/greenflyer13
Summary: Alpha!Peter and Omega!Wade become friends and end up spending more and more time together. Over time, Peter’s apartment becomes their unofficial clubhouse filled with blankets, soft pillows, the perfect mattress, and more for their long nights playing video games or bonding over takeout. A surprise visit from Aunt May brings some tough and unexpected questions to the forefront: How dare Peter not tell her that he had a mate? And why on earth did they make their nest in the living room, of all places? Will the heroes face their feelings in time for Wade’s next heat? Maybe it’ll be... close enough.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 234
Kudos: 1103
Collections: Fav Recs





	1. WWSD (What Would Spiderman Do?)

**Author's Note:**

> [White speaks like this]  
> {Yellow speaks like this}  
>  _inner monologue is like this_

{When the sun shine, we shine together...}

[Told you I’ll be here forever…]

_Said I’ll always be your friend…_

Deadpool was in a particularly good mood that night. He had an easy hit on one of his all-time favorite types of targets—a pedophile who had apparently been involved in a sex trafficking ring spanning three states. 

{Took an oath, I’mma stick it out to the end…}

[Now it’s raining more than ever…]

_Know that we’ll still have each other… ___

__

__

[YOU CAN STAND UNDER MY UMBRELLA...]

“You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…” he sang under his breath, spending a stray thought on what Spidey would look like dancing to that song. Maybe he could convince him to dance with him if they ever became friends. 

{Yeah right, like he’d ever wanna be friends with you.}

“Hmph.” Deadpool had been trying to take on less jobs, or only take jobs to rough people up or deliver them elsewhere; of the jobs that did require killing, he only took ones for people he was sure were in the wrong. 

[Like that’s good enough. Spidey would never kill.] 

{Not even this guy? He’s a MONSTER.}

[Maybe so, but wouldn’t Spider-Man say he deserves a trial? If he _is_ a monster, we can make sure he dies in jail. Wouldn’t that be just as good?]

“Alright, alright! Now’s not the time. I already took this hit, it can be my last one,” the merc finally responded with another huff.

He knew he should probably be a little more careful to keep quiet, but he didn’t particularly care if he was heard or not. He had already deactivated the button that would allow for Mr. Coldwell to call for his bodyguards, and the man’s family was away on vacation. He checked over his guns one last time before swinging over the ledge to crack open the window of the large penthouse suite. 

Unfortunately for ol’ DP, it was raining pretty hard. 

_THWACK!_

Deadpool’s gloves slipped from the sill and he managed to land hard on his back, knocking his breath from his lungs. Temporarily distracted and unable to breathe as he was, didn’t notice the figure approaching until he was already too close.

The man’s crowbar swung towards him. It took little effort for Deadpool to roll away while drawing his gun, but his lungs still weren’t working right. He finally got a full breath in, and it was disgustingly alpha, acidic and sour and very strong. He shouldn’t have been surprised—he was in this man’s bedroom, after all—but in the moment of his distraction the crowbar made impact with his leg. Not wanting to waste more time, the merc sent a bullet through the man’s head. 

Standing and taking stock of the (relatively) clean master bedroom, he was surprised when his leg collapsed under him. Apparently, it had been broken by the crowbar in the small scuffle. The pain hadn’t even registered. 

_Damn. I was really looking forward to making this fucker suffer at least a little bit._ He made sure his leg was in the right position while it finished healing (re-breaking it to heal right was always a bitch and a half) before checking that the man was, in fact, Mr. Coldwell. 

{That’s what you get for being distracted during a hit!}

[It was YOUR fault we started singing!]

{It was raining more than ever, what was I _supposed_ to do?}

Deadpool tested his leg. It would be a few minutes before he could do anything more than limp on it. Climbing back out the window might have been safer, but going through the house would be faster. He got no further than the hallway before he heard it.

“Daddy?” _Aww, fuck._ Wade’s head whipped around, landing on the small girl peeking her head out of the opposite door, probably no more than seven years old. “Who are you?”

“…Deadpool, at your service. Why aren’t you on vacation, sweetheart?” 

The girl remained half hidden by the door, apparently still deciding whether to trust him or not. Wade was glad of the low light; it gave him the chance to roll his sleeves a little way up to reveal his scent glands. Hopefully, the smell of blood would be overpowered by the scent of calm omega.

{Good thing she can’t see your skin, or she would be running away so fast–}

[More like, good thing she can’t see the blood on your suit! Do you really think this is going to work!?]

Her head tilted to the side, looking comforted and a little curious. No surprise there; Deadpool knew he was the largest omega most people had ever seen. Although trifling compared to some of the other behaviors, people’s disbelieving stares were one of the reasons he made sure his suit was so well sealed.

The girl stepped slightly further out to answer him.

“Daddy sent Mommy on vacation, but not me. He said I was old enough he wanted to spend more time with me… but I don’t want to.” She said these last words softly, as if it was a confession. “He said he would visit me tonight.” Wade thought about her age, and the age of Mr. Coldwell’s supposed victims, and momentarily felt like throwing up. 

[What the fuck what the FUCK WHAT THE –]

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Wade’s words were more of a growl than he meant them to be. 

The girl pushed open her door more, and he could suddenly see she was wearing jeans and a hoodie, even though it must have been around midnight, and she had a backpack on. The pattern on her face stayed still, and he suddenly realized that it was a bruise, not a shadow. “I’m going to run away.” Her jaw stuck into the air in defiance, but he could see it shaking. 

He couldn’t help but look at her and see sixteen-year-old Wade.

{What do we do? What do we do what do we do _what do we do_ –}

[What would Spider-Man do?]

 _Spider-Man!_ Wade thought quickly for a second, rolled down his sleeves, and held out a hand.

“What do you think about tacos, sweetheart?”


	2. Adorable

Of all of the weird situations Spider-Man had found Deadpool in, sitting on a roof at 2 a.m. at one of his usual observation points surrounded by taco wrappers with a small child sleeping in his lap took the cake. Deadpool’s large frame looked tense, curled around her slightly—like he was trying to keep her warm, but was afraid of moving or she would wake up. It looked like he had her backpack on his shoulders, as well—pink, and two sizes too small. Peter had the stray thought that ‘Pool looked kind of cute. Not that he would ever say that; if the man’s size was anything to go by, he was probably an alpha, and some alphas didn’t take kindly to being called “cute.” 

Peter walked quietly towards him, not trying to creep up on the merc, but quietly enough that the child could stay asleep if need be. Deadpool’s head snapped up, and Peter could smell the faint, sweet scent of the girl. It crossed his mind that Deadpool must have scent blockers incorporated into his suit, like he had in his own, because he couldn’t scent him whatsoever. 

Deadpool slowly raised a finger to his lips. It was unnecessary—Peter didn’t want to wake her up either—but he waited for the merc to speak. Deadpool’s head tilted to the side, as if he were listening to someone else, but Peter didn’t hear anything.

“No, I don’t know what to tell him either.” Deadpool seemed to be speaking to himself. Peter waited, hoping that more information would be forthcoming. He finally seemed to look back at him. “She… wasn’t safe, with her family, and I didn’t know what to do.” 

It was only then that Peter noticed the bruising on her face. A year ago, he would have wondered if it were from Deadpool himself—he always had seemed unpredictable, and at that time, usually violent—but even then, the absolute care he was showing would have changed his mind. 

When the merc had first started hanging around, Peter had thought him a terrible nuisance. He was always showing up at the wrong time, trying to “help” him prevent crime while getting thoroughly in the way. After a while, Peter had started to greet his arrivals by webbing his hands to his sides. He considered webbing his mouth closed as well, but all too often his unfiltered commentary was too good to pass up.

His opinion of him had changed when Deadpool tagged along to track and (in Spidey’s case) web up a known rapist who targeted omegas in heat (one of the few criminals he called the police to handle, instead of trying to talk them into making better life choices). Deadpool had wanted to cut his dick off and feed it to him, and while he couldn’t agree, it had led to a discussion about the appropriate uses of violence and the current criminal justice system that had been much more interesting than he thought it would be. This crazy, sometimes violent, loud-mouthed man had morals, skewed as they may be, and he had a drive to protect that the hero found fascinating. 

More recently, he hadn’t seen Deadpool around as much. He knew he still ran mercenary jobs, but at least he had stopped killing otherwise, and rumor had it he had also taken up “vigilantism” as well. Peter had heard in one of his rare visits to the Avengers tower that he stopped a robbery at a convenience store, only to listen to the would-be robber’s story and buy him a full cart of groceries, followed by paying his landlord a rather nasty visit. Not quite the approach Peter would have taken (or could have, seeing as he was always two wrong steps from not making rent) but he was impressed nevertheless. 

And now here he was, taking responsibility for a child that couldn’t be more than seven or eight. How had he found her? 

“… I thought about taking her to the police, but I don’t really trust them, and then White asked what you would do, so I thought I would just ask…”

“I can take her to Aun- to a lady I know who helps run the F.E.A.S.T shelter. I’m sure she’ll be able to help, without having to get the police involved.” Peter paused, again noting how adorable it was that Deadpool’s arms wrapped around the girl protectively, her shield from the world. “You did good, getting her away from her family.”

“Really?!” Peter could have sworn the merc’s eyes would have formed little hearts if they could. As it was, his mask lenses grew almost round and he could see the outline of a grin. His heart gave a little lurch, and he couldn’t stop a responding grin from spreading across his face, too. 

“Really. Let’s go.”


	3. Rainbow Sprinkles

Wade waited as Spider-Man knocked on the door of the small apartment in Queens. The girl had stayed asleep on the trip somehow, curled up in his arms, sleeping peacefully. He liked her calm warmth and tried not to think about how being trusted so implicitly made his heart swell. 

On the other hand, he was sort of sad he had missed the opportunity to swing on Spidey’s back, or in _his_ arms; they had chosen to walk instead of risking the jarring movements waking her up.

[But just imagine! Spidey is small but sooo strong, it wouldn’t be any problem at all for him to carry us like this-]

{Forget _carry_ , he could pick us up and fuck us against a wall if he wanted!}

[Or he could just web-]

“We don’t need to think about that right now!” He spoke out loud without meaning to. At least he had remembered to speak quietly for the kid. Thankfully, he was spared from any questions from Spidey by the door opening. 

“P– Spider-Man! Nice to see you again. And who is this?” A tall alpha lady with long grey hair stood at the door, obviously having just woken up but retaining a certain sharpness in her eyes nevertheless.

“Ah– May– Mrs. Parker– this is Deadpool. And…” 

They were both looking at him, and he realized he didn’t actually know her name. “This is… the youngest child of Simon Coldwell, who… will no longer be involved in child trafficking.” He cringed, hoping this wouldn’t be followed up on; his mercenary work was _not_ the way he wanted to be introduced to someone with whom Spider-Man was apparently on familiar terms. “She’s alright. She decided to run away. I was hoping you would be able to help…” 

“Of course.” May Parker looked the child over again. “Maybe she would be better here for tonight. You boys come inside. I’ll make up a bed for her and get her settled in.” 

Deadpool stepped warily into the home, only walking past the entrance hall when Mrs. Parker waved him forward. He wondered if she noticed his suit was scent blocking; it was considered rude to go further into someone’s home than necessary, so that your scent didn’t linger in their space. How odd—he hadn’t noticed until then that Spider-Man’s must be scent blocking too. 

He stepped past the hall with old shoes and a bright purple coat hanging by itself on a line of pegs into a small living room with an attached kitchen . The furnishings were cozy: a soft looking couch, a television silently running the evening news, several overflowing bookshelves, and a heap of red and blue yarn in a basket next to an overstuffed reading chair. 

The scent was definitely alpha, sharp and faintly spicy, but much more inviting than Coldwell’s room had been. If he was correct—and he had been trained to be correct—there were two alpha scents in the room, the second one besides Mrs. Parker’s much more faded and _very_ attractive. He thought briefly of the single coat in the hall—maybe she had a partner who lived elsewhere? More likely it was some other relative, although it was impossible to tell; the walls were filled with pictures of her with numerous people, most of them appearing to be outside a building that must be the F.E.A.S.T. shelter. He noted one of the photos was with Spider-Man. 

The real-life Spider-Man seemed to be hovering around awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. Deadpool followed his line of sight and giggled. “She’s knitting a Spider-Man sweater, huh? She must be a fan.” 

“For my nephew!” Mrs. Parker was smiling as she returned with a sheet, pillows, and several blankets. 

“So, _he’s_ the fan then? He’s got good taste!” He winked at Spider-Man, who looked more awkward than ever. Wade wondered if he was blushing under that mask of his. Mrs. Parker turned away to fan out the sheet, but he thought she looked amused by the exchange. 

“We should probably wake her up before she settles in. I don’t want her to be disoriented. I’m going to make some hot chocolate. Do either of you want anything?” 

[Hot chocolate sounds nice!]

{We don’t want to roll up the mask, idiot. Do you want them to barf up their cocoa?}

“…Good point, Yellow. I’m good! But do you have rainbow sprinkles? You should definitely put rainbow sprinkles on hers.” 

“Why, does she like them?”

“Nope! I just think they’re neat!” 

Spider-Man snorted out a laugh, which Wade took as a win. “I’m good as well. Thanks, May,” he said. 

Mrs. Parker raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as she waved them into the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before he was almost regretting his decision. _Is it too late to ask for a to-go cup?_ Mrs. Parker not only made her hot chocolate with milk over the stove, but apparently had her own homemade recipe. It smelled heavenly. 

“…Deadpool? Where are we?” A small voice peeped from his arms. 

“She remembered my name!” He wanted to dance but settled for sliding her into a seat at the kitchen table. “We’re with friends, sweetheart. Spider-Man and Mrs. Parker. Want some hot chocolate?” The girl nodded slightly.

“Here you go, child.” Mrs. Parker slid a mug with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles on top across the table. “I’m May, and this is my home. Would you like to stay here for a while? We can figure everything else out tomorrow.” 

“Yes ma’am. I’d like that.” The girl continued to sip her hot chocolate and May talked quietly—there were towels in the bathroom if she wanted to take a bath, and wouldn’t that be nice and cozy?—while Spider-Man and Deadpool stood awkwardly in the kitchen, neither one wanting to leave quite yet. 

Wade found he liked the apartment quite a lot. It was the first place he had rested in in a long time that was actually a home. Most residences he entered, he was only in for several adrenaline-filled minutes, and his own houses were more for weapons storage and injury recovery than anything else. Why would he bother making himself cozy if he never stayed in one place too long? But then again, it was starting to seem like New York was where he would want to be for a while. Maybe he should try to form a more permanent home? Maybe he could come back here sometime and soak it in. It was nice. 

It wasn’t long before the kid was falling back asleep. Mrs. Parker picked her up gently—Wade was secretly surprised at that; she must have been stronger than she looked—and tucked her into the makeshift bed on the couch. 

“Thank you, May,” Spider-Man said quietly as he gave her a small hug. 

“Thank you too, both of you. Spider-Man, I’ll keep you updated.” 

{I wonder if that means he has a phone he uses for Spider-Man work?}

[We should get his number!]

Mrs. Parker handed them some paper travel mugs he hadn’t seen her fill. “Oops, looks like I made some extra! Here, with rainbow sprinkles,” she winked. 

Deadpool hoped it would take her a while to find the money he tucked under the couch covers.


	4. Hungry

Peter had a lot on his mind after that night. Not only was he dealing with his regular Spider-Man duties and coursework from university, he lost another job. This time had been one of the worst cases; he had come into the restaurant with a black eye after a mugger got a particularly good hit on him, and they had told him he shouldn’t expect to come back if he was participating in that kind of violence. It had almost made him laugh. That same manager had been defending Spider-Man to another co-worker just the other day. 

He suspected being an alpha didn’t help. Most people who saw him as Spider-Man assumed he was an omega, or a beta at most. It was one of the reasons he had made sure his suit concealed his scent so well; it would be too obvious a connection if anyone met him as Peter Parker, as he was the smallest alpha anyone had ever met. Most people assumed that he would have some kind of grudge against being short, some sort of need to prove himself to the outside world. The fact that he didn’t made some people uncomfortable, especially other alphas. (They didn’t realize that any fight Peter could have picked he would have won, but Peter hoped to think his level-headedness was also due to the caring hand of Aunt May.) 

So now he was down a job. His current plan was to sell more pictures to JJ, not that he really wanted to contribute to the man’s grudge against him. It was pretty inconvenient, though; taking decent photos of himself on patrol required a lot of setup (and sheer dumb luck, quite frankly), and Jameson had long been tired of pictures of Spider-Man in “normal” settings. It felt as if his work doing patrols had increased to take up all the time he had previously been at work, not to mention the time he was taking to find a new job that would allow for a flexible schedule to fit around his lab work and nightly activities. 

And he was _hungry._

It would have been easy to go to Aunt May, but he kept holding off, promising himself that he would if things got worse; he didn’t need to yet. He was able to pay rent and all his bills, so what if he had a little less food this month? Something would work out.

So when he saw Deadpool again, leaning against the ledge of the roof they had met on before, he wasn’t at the top of his game. 

It was almost jarring to see the larger man in a regular context again. They had split up soon after leaving Aunt May’s; Peter suspected that Deadpool wanted to drink his cocoa in peace, and he couldn’t blame him.It gave Peter a chance to drink his own without raising his mask in front of the merc. Still, seeing him at his Aunt’s house had only made him like the man more; something about him was so cozy and inviting, holding that child like she was precious. 

_And for so long, too! He’s strong enough he didn’t even look tired afterward!_ Peter usually didn’t like the idea of people picking him up just because he was small, but somehow, the strength and sweetness in the idea of Deadpool carrying him was appealing. _Maybe it’s those fucking_ hot _arms._ Arms which were currently crossed quite attractively. 

Peter had to push those ideas almost bodily out of his mind (and pretend he hadn’t been thinking them for the past couple weeks) to properly process what Deadpool was saying. 

“So nice to see you here, Spidey! How’s the little one?” 

“Ah, Lucy! She’s doing well. We decided it would be best to keep her where she is at least until the end of her trial; they were able to find enough evidence in the Coldwell house after…” Spider-Man stopped. It was pretty apparent to him that Deadpool had been responsible for killing Mr. Coldwell, and although he had agreed a long time ago to stay out of the merc’s business for the sake of their partnership’s harmony, he was always vaguely nauseated when he thought about where Deadpool’s money came from. 

“It was my last hit, baby boy. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. Just good old-fashioned detective work from here on out!” Clearly his worries were obvious to the merc as well. Deadpool posed in a way Peter thought was supposed to look heroic, but somehow just made him laugh instead. It was somewhat of a relief to hear those words out of his mouth, even if he wasn’t sure he could trust them. Not to mention, the nickname “baby boy” was doing something not entirely unpleasant to his stomach. 

“Well anyway, it looks like there’s enough against her mother as well that it shouldn’t be hard to make sure she doesn’t go back,” Peter continued. “If she does go into the foster care system, Aunt May’ll keep an eye out for her, and I will as well. I don’t want her to end up in the same sort of trouble.” 

Deadpool stared at him for longer than he thought necessary, and it looked like he was listening to something Peter couldn’t hear again. “…Aunt May?” 

_Fuck._ He had been so careful the other day, and now in two seconds that had gone right out the window. 

“Is she really your aunt, or is it a term of endearment? Or, OH! Are you dating her nephew? Is that why she’s making him a Spidey sweater?” 

Peter breathed out slowly, thankful he had been given an out. “No, I’ve just known her a really long time. I’m not dating her nephew,” he said with a laugh. 

“HA! Take that White! Do you think I could call her Aunt May too? I want an aunt, and her hot chocolate is to _die_ for.” 

“I thought you couldn’t die?”

“Not the point, Spidey! It was like drinking liquid chocolate, the nectar of the gods…” Deadpool’s rambling quickly devolved into a conversation that Peter could only hear about one third of, and he didn’t mind at all. It was sort of nice to hear Deadpool ramble; he hadn’t realized how lonely he was.

That night ended with Deadpool tagging along his watch, again, and he had to say the guy was almost helpful. He got back into his apartment that night with a little less exhaustion than normal and fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

Nights like that became almost a routine in the next few months. Deadpool would inevitably show up at some point on Peter’s watch and help him as much as possible. It made the time pass much more quickly. When there wasn’t anything to do, Peter and Deadpool would just talk. 

It was during this that Peter learned more about the boxes. He could tell that Deadpool didn’t like to talk about his past whatsoever, and he tried to respect that, but sometimes words came out of his mouth whether he authorized them or not, and his brain definitely hadn’t run that question by him first. Thankfully Deadpool responded with a laugh and told him about White and Yellow, followed by a lot of chatter to the boxes that mostly consisted of “There’s no WAY I’m going to tell him THAT.” 

All in all, Peter was happier than he’d been in a while. It didn’t take long before he trusted that Deadpool wasn’t “un-aliving” people anymore. It turned out he had been honest and that was his last actual hit. The webslinger was pleased; he had finally found someone to share this superhero thing with (who was a lot less stuck up and protective and altogether more entertaining than the Avengers). Maybe he was someone who didn’t quite understand _why_ he should give people a second chance, but at least he _tried._ He was quickly becoming Peter’s best friend.

It didn’t help that Peter couldn’t quite keep his eyes off him.

The only downside to this whole situation was that he couldn’t as easily take photographs. He had almost considered asking Deadpool to take pictures for him; it would be much easier to get action shots if there were someone pointing the camera, no matter that he wasn’t a photographer. The issue was that it would take someone a lot less observant than Deadpool to ignore the fact that those were the photographs that would appear in the Daily Bugle under the name “Peter Parker”, and with him already knowing May Parker, it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together. 

As an unfortunate result, the income Peter relied on had decreased from “very little” to “none”, and he was _hungry._

That week, Peter had almost depleted all his options for getting food without asking. He had visited May and Lucy (which he almost felt bad about, but he had been planning on visiting them anyway), he had gone to a meeting on-campus for his university’s debate club for free pizza (hey, they needed members, and at least he told a couple of his classmates about them too), and he had helped an old widowed omega he knew as Spider-Man get groceries and clean their house (which he would have done anyway, probably) before they sent him home with some leftovers and cookies. 

But that was all earlier in the week, two midterms and a long night and what seemed like a lifetime ago, and he was still hungry. He hoped that Deadpool wouldn’t notice when his stomach growled as they passed a familiar Mexican restaurant, El Duranguenze, but no such luck. 

“Baby boy, are you _hungry?_ Let’s get takeout, my treat!” 

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but it was no use—it smelled _so good_ , and his stomach was growling again anyway. “Uh… I’ve heard they have good burritos?” 

“Then burritos it is! And tacos! And I wonder if they have any tamales?” Deadpool was rambling as he opened the door and pulled Peter through. He tried not to drool as they ordered, relieved that they didn’t have long to wait before a hefty bag of food was handed over and he could swing them to the nearest rooftop, open the bags, open the burrito container… and pause.

Deadpool seemed to realize the issue at the same time. They stared at each other for a moment. 

“Ah, sorry Spidey… I can pack this up and you can go –” 

“No!” Peter spoke without thinking. He didn’t want to give up the hours he had left with the man just because… well, because he was hungry.

He had learned to trust Deadpool a lot in the past few months, what was one more step? Peter knew that he would never reveal his secret identity, at least not on purpose, and the other man already knew about Aunt May, although he didn’t know that she was actually his aunt… and Aunt May had approved of him already, saying that Lucy had taken a liking to him. What was one more thing? 

He pulled his mask up to his nose and began to eat. 

Deadpool just looked at him, not even talking to the boxes. Right, his scent.

If he wasn’t so hungry, he would have started to talk immediately. Now that this secret was out, he wanted to tell him more, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

Deadpool’s mouth was hanging slightly open. “Baby b…” he spoke softly, seemingly not knowing if he should continue. 

“You… ah.” Peter cleared his throat, hoping his words sounded normal. “You can still call me… that. I don’t mind.” He hoped his blush wasn’t showing, willing himself to keep his heart rate down. 

“Really?” Deadpool almost squealed, and Peter forced out a laugh, hoping it sounded natural. It was odd how much that name affected him; any other alpha saying it to him would have made it sound derogatory or condescending, but from Deadpool it sounded soft and sweet and kind of made his insides flip. 

“Sure, I don’t mind. You mean it as an endearment, not a put-down.” He finished his burrito and paused for a second, wondering what to say next. Deadpool seemed almost about to ask more questions, but after his mouth opened and closed a few times with no sounds coming out, he started talking anyway. “I don’t mind being mistaken for an omega,” he started slowly. “Part of it is that it helps to be thought of as an omega or beta to keep my identity under cover. I mean, if you meet me without the mask, you’ll probably know me automatically; I haven’t met any other alphas my size.”

He continued, “A part of me thinks I should say something anyway… I mean, did you know I was mentioned as a theory on a list of ‘empowered omegas?’ I don’t deserve that, and I don’t want to take that kind of recognition away from omegas who are actually doing awesome things. But on the other hand, I don’t want to speak up against that explicitly, because why couldn’t an omega be a superhero? I could be anyone underneath the mask… I always thought I was going to be an omega when I was growing up, because I was so small. I guess I don’t want people to think I’m sexist, or cause any lack of trust in me, or keep any kids from thinking that they can’t do whatever they believe in, you know?” 

Peter paused after this long speech, hoping for any kind of reaction, but all he got was a blank mask. 

“Uh… Deadpool?” 

To his surprise, the other man responded by slowly rolling up his own mask. At first Peter thought he had been worried about the scars; they were everywhere, mottled red welts that made it look like he might have been burned. Spider-Man was hardly grossed out by this; he found it kind of fascinating. One thing he didn’t really ever tell people about his Spider-Man powers is that when he was viewing something at close range, he could see in incredible detail. Regular human skin all looked a bit gross when looked at too closely, so he had long since cared about anyone’s skin, but Deadpool’s looked almost shiny in some places, like scar tissue. He wondered if it would feel smooth.

The second thing he noticed was that jawline. _Hot damn._

The third thing he noticed was that Deadpool, unmistakably, was an omega. And he smelled _fantastic_.


	5. Not Ugly At All

Deadpool spent a lot of his time fighting himself.

It was just what he did, you know? White had some ideas, Yellow had others, and all too often Wade didn’t know what his own thoughts were in the first place. Some things were unanimous: tacos are good, wet, itchy leather was bad, people who delivered food deserved big tips, and people touching his katanas was an automatic no-no. Most things that were unanimous had good reasons behind them. Their taste buds were their taste buds, no matter what, so how could they have differences there? And people were way too careless with sharp weapons in general.

Other things didn’t seem to have a reason. Sparkly things were fun! The texture and sound of chalk were unbearable. Spider-Man was _good._

And while this last point was unanimous—even while he didn’t quite know why—they had very different viewpoints on what to _do_ about it.

Some days, White wanted to flirt with Spidey: [Ask him out! We probably don’t have a chance but at least we could _try._ ]

{And what, have him reject our friendship forever?}

[We don’t have to call it a date! He doesn’t mind patrols, right? We could just hang out at our place instead…]

 _And do what, stare at the wall?_ Deadpool still remembered the coziness of Aunt May’s apartment, and while going back there wasn’t quite what he wanted, he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Some days (well, every day), Yellow wanted to just hit on him: {He probably doesn’t want us, but what if he wanted a one-night stand? We don’t have to show our skin, we could just suck his dick!}

[How the fuck do you give a blowjob without showing skin?]

Wade had to agree with this point; from his size, Peter was an omega, or maybe a beta. Which didn’t matter to him at all, but omega-omega relationships weren’t super common, so letting the hero scent him was too much of a risk.

{Okay, we could give him a handjob with our gloves still on. Oooh! If he wants it, we could use our knot-dildo on him…}

[I thought we weren’t trying to scare him away?]

{At least let’s take one firm grasp of that ass… on accident!}

[How the FUCK-]

Wade tried to block them out at that point.

Some days, White thought that they should just leave and never come back. [Spider-Man is too good for us. We shouldn’t make him deal with our messed-up shit.]

Wade agreed, but that didn’t mean he was able to leave.

And while he was fighting with the boxes, he found himself growing closer and closer to Spidey anyway. He had stayed true to his promise not to un-alive anybody for the past few months. Whenever he felt too restless, he would follow Spider-Man around on patrol or if he wasn’t around, just go himself. That was good, right? He was getting better, right?

Wade knew it wouldn’t be enough for Spider-Man to want him, but at this point, it didn’t matter. He’d do it anyway. Being around him was easy; Spidey never seemed to mind when he talked to the boxes. He even asked about them, which not many people had done before, although he wasn’t sure how coherent of an explanation he had given before the conversation devolved:

[He noticed me! Tell him I love him!]

{Tell him I want to _SUCK HIS DICK_ -}

So, all and all, things were going pretty well.

When he bought Spider-Man food, it was due to a growing hunch that he was underfed. He noticed first that the webslinger tried to move quickly away from the smell of food; it was only because his stomach occasionally growled that he figured it might have been because he was hungry and not because he didn’t like the scent. After that, he started trying to make a mental picture of Spidey’s day, trying to figure out what he did to make money. He talked occasionally about classes but didn’t make any indication of living with anyone or knowing anyone besides Aunt May. While Deadpool thought he might have been just hiding what he did so that he didn’t find out his secret identity, that didn’t seem to be the case. And he knew for a fact no one was going to pay him to just be Spider-Man. So he got him food.

He _honestly_ didn’t think about the mask issue until it was too late. He hadn’t at all expected the hero to unmask for him, knowing that he kept his scent hidden.

He also didn’t expect Spidey to be an alpha.

His first reaction to alpha scent was usually wariness. How could it not be, with his past? But it wasn’t that way with Spider-Man; his scent was sharp, but also delicious and comforting and something like _rest_. It took him a moment to place where he had smelled him before.

{Huh. Aunt May really _was_ his aunt this whole time?}

[Wait, that Spider-Man sweater was for _him?_ ]

{Awwww! That’s adorable! He would look so cute in it!}

“Baby b..” Wade had to stop himself. He had been calling Spider-Man—an alpha— _baby boy. He’s never going to talk to us again._

And then he didn’t mind. In fact, he was _blushing_. He _liked it_. Both boxes seemed to have gone offline at this, and Wade couldn’t blame them at all.

And after hearing Spidey talk about omegas… Wade wanted to say something like “thank you” or something like “I trust you,” but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do either. He rolled up his mask and began to eat.

This time it was Spider-Man’s turn to be shocked still.

{Did you just forget about your FUCKING SCARS?}

 _Ah. Shit. Maybe._ Wade checked Spider-Man’s reaction, but even with half his face still covered he didn’t look grossed out… he looked like he was blushing again. What?

“Ah… um. My name’s Peter.”

 _Holy shit, baby boy told us his name!_ “Wade!” Deadpool unfortunately spoke through a full mouth and managed to spray half-chewed burrito over himself. _FUCK._

He was saved from his blunder by a shout of laughter from Peter, who tossed all the napkins they had at him. Peter’s giggle had him joining in, grateful for the bit of relief from the general tension of the conversation.

“So… why do you use scent blockers?” Spidey– no, Peter– paused. “I mean, of course you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But is it because some people wouldn’t take you seriously? Because that’s fucked up. Not, I mean, that you don’t want to deal with that; that’s understandable. But like. Because people can be shitty. I’d totally fight them for you. With you. If you want.” Peter’s words got more and more flustered as he went along.

“No, no… well, maybe a bit. But I could take those guys. It’s…” Deadpool took a deep breath and caught Peter’s calm alpha scent again. _Damn, that could be addicting_. “When I was eight, my mother died. She was an omega too, so I figured it couldn’t be _that_ bad, but my father always thought I was going to be an alpha… so when I turned fifteen and presented, he was disappointed. Not only was I not an alpha like _him_ , I was tall, too tall to be a ‘pretty’ omega. Of course, he changed his mind when my first heat came at sixteen. He said with eyes like my mom’s and a scent like my mom’s, I could do her job as an omega in heat just as well…” Wade shuddered. Peter reached out but paused, like he wanted to put a hand on Wade’s knee but wasn’t sure if he was welcome; Wade grabbed his hand and held on. _What a tight grip. My strong little alpha._

“Anyway. I ran away after that. It wasn’t so bad at first; I came to America, got some fake papers, and joined the military. I knew I’d never be… well. Long story short, I got kicked out of the military, I finally stopped growing, I got cancer, Francis said I could be cured but instead I got _more_ cancer, plus regeneration and a face like a burnt avocado. And baby boy… it’s not the ones that think I can’t kick their asses that bother me, because I know I can. It’s the ones like my father. The ones who think that because I’m a tall, huge, _ugly_ omega, because no one will want me, that it’ll be easy to _own_ me. That they think they can do whatever because who else would want me? No one. And they’re right.”

“They are NOT right.” Peter’s scent was suddenly sharp and angry, and Wade flinched. Peter took in a deep breath and exhaled hard. “I’m sorry, Wade, I didn’t mean to get mad. They’re _not_ right. You’re not ugly at _all_ , and there’s no reason to think you’d never be wanted. They have no right to act like that.”

It was so _nice_ to hear Peter—Peter, baby boy’s name was Peter!—say his name. Wade was suddenly aware of the continued pressure of Peter’s hand holding his.

It was too much.

“Okay Petey-Pie, it was nice hanging out with you!” Deadpool jumped up, rolled down his mask, and ran to the nearest exit point he could find, which happened to be a fire escape half an ally away.

“Wait, Wade, you forgot your food!”

“Keep it!” Wade shouted, trying to ignore that he probably (definitely) just sprained his ankle in the jump.

{He said we’re not ugly _at all._ }


	6. A Little Like Almonds

Peter desperately hoped he hadn’t fucked things up in his last meeting with Deadpool.

He wanted to trust the mercenary— _Wade_ , his name was _Wade_ —and it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about revealing more of his identity or even eventually working up the courage to unmask, especially once Deadpool had proven himself with little Lucy. But what he had talked about, the raw wounds he’d exposed without any apparent reservation? Wade had told him about his whole _life_. That was a whole new level of trust, and Peter had wanted to make sure that Wade knew he recognized that, and that he understood what a big step that must have been.

But from the way ‘Pool _ran_ —and he _must_ have injured himself, as Peter certainly wouldn’t have attempted that jump without web assistance—it wasn’t a discussion Wade had been ready to have that night, and likely not one he was planning to ever have with Spider-Man. So, Peter determined that he would never bring it up again.

His worry worsened when Deadpool didn’t show up the next time he went on patrol. Or the time after that. When Wade finally _did_ show up—dropping a bag of tacos on the roof and rambling about a new bracelet he found with a spider charm… Well, Peter had promised himself, and he should have known better than to push the issue, but—

“Wanna come eat these back at my place? If I’m there I can take my mask off all the way.” The idea had been percolating at the back of Peter’s mind. He wanted to show Deadpool that he _trusted_ him, and that he hadn’t taken his openness for granted.

“Not to mention, I’ve been dumpster diving for tech—don’t laugh—and you wouldn’t _believe_ the things you can find outside of rich kid dorms at the end of the semester. Some kid just left an entire TV and someone else left an almost functional Wii, and with midterms over I finally got enough time to get it working again,” he added, knowing this gambit might not work. For fuck’s sake, he was an _alpha_ , and although Deadpool had been fine at Aunt May’s house, this was different. He wasn’t just showing that he trusted him, he was asking Deadpool to trust him too. A _lot_. What if it was worse than he let on before? What if, with all he went through, he didn’t trust alphas at _all_? Why the fuck was he only just thinking about this now?

Deadpool’s mask was completely blank for a second, and then he grinned. “Baby _boy_. Does this mean I’ll get to see those pretty eyes?”

Peter huffed a laugh, trying to hide his relief. “How would you know they’re pretty? You’ve never even seen them.”

“I know they are because they belong to _you_ , Petey-Pie,” Deadpool crowed, sweeping back up the bag of tacos. “So where are we headed?”

It didn’t take very long to get back to Peter’s apartment. He almost asked if Deadpool wanted to run, instead of swing— _why does knowing he’s an omega make everything so much more intimate?_ —but he knew he never would have done that before, so he wasn’t about to start now. After all, swinging was still by far his favorite part about being Spider-Man.

They got into Peter’s eighth-floor apartment through the perpetually-unlocked living room window. For half a second, his mind flashed through the oddness of the situation: he _was_ specifically inviting Wade further into his home, but landing smackdab in the middle of his living space still felt a little abrupt.

Peter tried to imagine what his apartment must look like to an outsider. It was a one-bedroom apartment, the cheapest and smallest one he could find. Aside from the doors to the bedroom, tiny bathroom, and four-foot-square entry hall, the walls were filled with mismatched shelves, mostly found in dumpsters and webbed back together with his “permanent-stick” formula. The shelves were filled with academic texts, other books, and tech odds and ends he had found or scrounged, including the remnants of a couple of different Wiis he’d used to build the fully functional—if not a bit rough looking—model sitting by the TV. The kitchen counters and table were his lab space; the only surfaces actually dedicated to food were the microwave, sink, and the stovetop. At least he had a couch.

Peter was dragged from his thoughts by an enthusiastic Deadpool. “Oh baby boy, you’re such a nerd! Just look at all this stuff!”

And just like that, it was natural to have Deadpool in his apartment. “How do you know? Maybe I’m just hoarding all of this stuff and not doing anything with it,” Peter laughed as he pulled the curtains closed and his mask off.

Deadpool gasped. “You’re a _hot_ nerd! And I was totally right, look at those beautiful brown eyes!”

Peter rolled them. _Ah, fuck. If I’m going to start making unmasking around Wade a Thing, I need to figure out a better way to handle his flirting._

__

__

...I’m so glad he didn’t stop flirting.

 _...Now is_ not _really the time for that kind of revelation._

Peter cleared his throat. “So, tacos? Or would you wanna see if this Wii can actually run Mario Kart?”

“Good question, Petey! Tacos first, then I’m going to kick ass as Princess Peach!”

Deadpool did, in fact, kick his ass—but only in three rounds out of five.

It was sometime during their second taco break that Peter noticed Wade pulling down his mask between bites. He was confused at first, but then realized it must have been more about the scars than his scent; he could already tell his apartment would smell like Deadpool—sweet, and a little like almonds—for a while. It smelled _so good_. So, the mask… it was only for the scars. Peter tried not to look at him at all after that, to give him space to eat.

Wade must have noticed because he relaxed even more after that. Peter didn’t have to look; he could _smell_ content omega. He wanted that scent in his home at _all times_. He needed to make sure he didn’t drool.

He wondered what Wade would think if he brought home some of Aunt May’s almond bars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> A note about almond bars: if you have a good recipe for them, PLEASE let me know! I remember them from when I was a kid; there was a shortbread layer and then a gooey almond flavored layer, like brownie texture, and then shaved almonds on top. But now no one else in my family remembers them and my mom doesn't know what I'm talking about :'( so was this a desperate plea to help find these almond bars again? Maybe! Thanks for reading anyway :) 
> 
> UPDATE: the almond bar recipe has been found! Thank you so much to itsMerlinYo! <3 <3 <3
> 
> http://www.dirtylaundrykitchen.com/norwegian-almond-bars/
> 
> An extra shoutout to my beta reader, CuteAsAMuntin! She takes what I write and makes it 100x better <3


	7. Stick Around

It took two days after learning Peter’s name for Wade to pull himself together enough to form a game plan.

Why did it always seem so much easier to make decisions in the spur of the moment? At the time, it was so _easy_ to reveal that he was an omega and show some of his scars. He didn’t regret that decision, but he had no idea what to do next.

{We could try to get in his pants! He said you weren’t ugly, remember? And he smelled _so good_ , and now that he’s opened up a bit, we might have a chance—}

[He opened up to us when he didn’t know we were an omega! What if he only likes alphas or betas? What if he only likes _girls?_ What if trying to do something now would be awkward? We should forget the whole thing ever happened.]

{But he smelled _so good!_ }

_And_ he _was the one who rolled up his mask first—what if he doesn’t_ want _things to stay the same?_

[Not wanting things to stay the same doesn’t mean he wants you to jump him!]

{So what _should_ we do?}

And round and round the conversation went. It was only when his mind drifted to the other aspects of that day—specifically, how he had been right that Peter was, in fact, hungry all the time—that he made a decision. He wanted to keep feeding his little Spidey, if he would let him, so he could just bring food and pretend nothing had changed at all besides that, right?

When he’d agreed—again, in the spur of the moment—to hang out, Peter’s apartment was almost better than he imagined it might be. It was the same scent from Aunt May’s house, but in reverse; he could tell Aunt May visited occasionally, but it was more overwhelmingly _Peter_ than anything else. It was sharp and slightly spicy, like pine, but somehow also _comforting_ , while still being unmistakably alpha. He couldn’t even remember the last time those had gone together.

He noticed Peter didn’t look at him while he was eating after a while, but that was only to be expected. The twinge of disappointment that the hero had lied about not finding him ugly was overshadowed by his relief at not having to show his face.

{To be fair, the scars _are_ pretty disgusting.} 

[At least he didn’t run away screaming.]

Wade came over a lot after that.

For the most part, it wasn’t any different than it had been before. The biggest change was that now, when they got bored of waiting for crime to happen or got too tired to continue with the night, they headed to Peter’s apartment. Wade insisted on bringing food as much as possible. He could _tell_ his little spider was hungry, no matter how much he protested at Wade spending money on him.

“You don’t have to bring food over all the time!”

“And what, let you starve?!”

[That probably wasn’t the best way—]

“I’m an adult, I can take care of myself! Besides, I have food at home.”

{Is he talking about the two pieces of bread we found in his cupboard?!}

[Make him feel like he’s doing us a service, too, so he’ll shut up about us spending money on him!]

{I can think of a lot of ways he could _service_ us...}

“Shut up Yellow! Peter. Petey-pie. Baby boy. We’re always going to your place, not mine. I gotta contribute to our little hideout somehow, right?”

That argument worked eventually, especially with food in hand. It didn’t take long for ‘Pool to work out that Peter liked Greek food best, and he didn’t mind. Wade was okay with giving up Mexican food every once in a while to make Peter happy, and besides, gyros and baklava were pretty good too.

[Wow, you’re really gone on him, aren’t you.]

_Fuck off. Have you_ smelled _how happy he gets when he’s full and sleepy? It’s like a fucking drug._

[I can’t argue with that.]

It took a little while for Wade to notice that Aunt May’s scent was fading from the apartment slightly. He asked about it one night after they fell into a pile on the couch following Peter’s crushing loss at Just Dance, and the web-slinger brought up the pile of homework he’d have to do the next day.

“Hey, baby boy, I’m not taking up too much of your time, am I?”

“Nah, I’d kick you out if I wanted you to leave. Why, what’s on your mind?” Peter scooted far away enough from Wade to be relatively face-to-face.

“It’s just… have you seen your Aunt May recently? It seems like she hasn’t been over here for a while.” Wade turned to look around the room; he both wanted to get out from under Peter’s gaze and never wanted it to stop. At least he still had his mask on.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you’d notice something like that. I’ve gone over to see her; she just hasn’t been over here because of Lucy.”

“What about her? Is Lucy okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just… most people, I’d be able to keep in the entry hall, right? That’s why I don’t care that I have webbing over every goddamn piece of falling-apart furniture. But Lucy knows I go into Aunt May’s house all the time and scent-marking each others’ spaces isn’t a problem for us, so it wouldn’t make sense for them _not_ to come in here.”

Deadpool thought about this for a second. What else would Lucy see, if she were here? There was tech everywhere, and while he thought half of the stuff sitting on the counters was related to the web-shooters, if she didn’t notice what they actually were then it really was just the webbed together furniture—

{We could get him new shelves! That would work, right? Then Aunt May could come and visit if he wanted.}

—And the scent of omega. She would absolutely know that it was him, if she remembered the scent of the merc who had taken her out of the Coldwell house. Would she then just think that he was friends with Peter, or would she connect Peter and Spider-Man?

[Or we could just make sure he has enough time to keep going over to Aunt May’s house.]

_Yeah, that’d probably be better._

They were still on the couch, and Wade was trying not to think about how close Petey’s head was to his shoulder. Peter had long since started changing into civilian clothing for their late night—or early-morning, depending on how you look at it—hangouts. He looked so comfy in a university t-shirt and old soft sweatpants, and he was totally right, watching Peter dance (even if it was just for the stupid old Wii game) was incredibly hot.

_I have to figure out how to make him let me stick around. I just wanna stay in his place with him forever._

{He said he’d kick you out if you were here too much, right? That sounds like an open invite to be here as long as Baby Boy lets us!}

[As long as he’s comfy and happy, I guess…]

He had an idea after that. Peter liked games, but he also had a lot of schoolwork, right? What if Wade got a Switch and brought it over to the apartment? He could get the newest Mario Kart and Smash Bros and maybe if he argued it right, he could get Peter to let him sit on the couch and play Animal Crossing while he worked.

It was worth a shot.


	8. Sleepover

Peter loved hanging out with Wade, but he _was_ getting behind on his homework. He thought he had managed to dodge the question successfully the last time ‘Pool asked him about taking up too much time, but as soon as he came home from class and found Wade in his apartment, he realized he might have been wrong.

Wade was sitting on the rug in front of his television with packaging strewn around him like the aftermath of a tiny hurricane.

“Wade, honey, what are you doing?”

“I got us a Switch! Well. I guess I got me a Switch, but since I only really play video games _here_ , I thought it could stay here. Wanna play the newest Smash Bros? It has _Isabelle!_ Oooh, and I got Animal Crossing, too! I figured you’d be able to ignore me playing that while you do homework. That is… if you don’t mind…” The larger man’s usual exuberant tone tapered off, and Peter could tell he was actually worried about this.

Peter tried to keep some of the emotion off of his face. Wade was larger than life, funnier than anyone he had ever known. He was strong, loud, and frankly, quite intimidating when he wanted to be, but when he was just with Peter, he found the omega slipped into something soft and sweet and Peter _loved_ it.

“Of course! You’re welcome anytime,” Peter felt himself grinning despite himself. “But why don’t you change into softer clothes? It can’t be comfortable for you to wear leather for so long.”

Wade stilled. Ah. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

“You don’t really want that, Petey-Pie, and that’s alright,” he said, voice tighter than it had been just a second ago.

“I do! You don’t have to worry about me, I know you don’t like me looking at you even though I told you I don’t mind, but I want you to be comfortable here…”

“You… don’t mind? You were being serious?”

Peter had to stop for a second. Had he just been wearing the mask this whole time because he thought Peter hated his skin?

“Deadpool. Wade. ‘Pool. I really actually don’t mind your skin. I… Well, I can see in really high detail, so like… I had to get used to how weird everyone’s skin looked once I got my powers, so it’s not that weird to me. And yours is much better than most. It looks uncomfortable, of course, but, like, kind of pretty. Like, you know close-up pictures of flowers? It’s like that. It looks almost soft and really interestingly textured, you know…” Peter trailed off, realizing he should probably shut up. _I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to punch me for that._

What he wasn’t expecting, though, was for Wade to pull off his mask.

The first thought that he had was that _damn, that jawline is_ more _than matched by those cheekbones._ And then, “Wow, those are the prettiest eyes I’ve ever—” Peter slapped his hand over his mouth. He had _not_ meant for that to slip out, no matter how blue and sharp they were.

Not to mention _worried._ Wade looked like he was also just waiting to get punched. Peter wanted to find whoever had hurt this beautiful man and web them up with his permanent-stick formula. Now wasn’t the time for that particular train of thought, though; this moment was about Wade. 

“Um. So. Hey, wanna borrow some of my clothes? They’ll be pretty small on you, but I think I have some sleep shirts and pants I claimed from Uncle Ben that might fit you. They’re in my room in the dresser on the left wall.”

Wade got up slowly, like he still wasn’t sure what was going on, and seemed to be listening to his boxes again. This was one of those (increasingly common) times when Peter wished he could hear them too, if only to make sure they weren’t saying stupid shit to make Wade feel any worse.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for Wade to bounce back to his normal self. Peter had barely had time to put down his backpack on the kitchen table, pull out his schoolwork, and silently freak out that Wade was _in his bedroom_ for Wade to come out bouncing in an old t-shirt that said “Crash and the Boys” and Peter’s baggiest sweatpants, which were stretched almost obscenely over those _thighs._

It was hard to balance between not looking too much—because Peter’s t-shirt also didn’t hide those _pecs_ , and that was _not_ something he needed to dwell on if he was going to change into sweatpants as well—and not looking too little, because Wade had obviously gotten the wrong impression earlier. But if it made him more comfortable? That sweet almond scent was worth it.

After that, Wade was over at Peter’s almost all of the time. Doing engineering homework while Wade played Animal Crossing across the room was a _dream._

“I would _die_ for Isabelle.”

“I thought you couldn’t really die?”

“I would die for Isabelle _many times._ ”

Peter couldn’t help but think about ways to make Wade more comfortable. At times, he wasn’t sure the man slept anywhere but his couch. To be fair, Peter hadn’t slept many places besides his couch either, curled up playing games after a day of patrol, homework, and school. At least with Wade around, he was well fed now.

It was only after they had both fallen asleep on Peter’s couch for about the tenth time that Peter got the idea to bring the mattress from his bed to the living room. It would be so much comfier, and he hadn’t been using it anyway, right? For half a second, he had considered just asking him to sleep with him in his bedroom, but that seemed _way_ too intimate. It was a big mattress, a hand-me-down from Aunt May, so it filled the space nicely, surrounded by the TV table, a shelf, and the couch, leaving a small walkway from the entryway door to the rest of the apartment.

It was only after Peter got it all set up that he wondered how strange it might look. Of course, that was the moment Wade got home. To Peter’s home. Not that it was _their_ home. He just… got to the apartment, like he usually did. That’s all.

“…Petey-Pie. What’s this?”

Peter was speechless for a second. All coherent thought seemed to go out the window. _This head empty. YEET._ Funny, but not helpful. 

“…Is it a sleepover? Oooh, baby boy, can we bounce on the bed and play video games until we pass out?”

Peter had to laugh. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing anyway? With a little less bouncing on the bed, I guess. I just thought you—I just thought it would be comfier for both of us! The bouncing is a bonus.”

“Awesome!” Wade flopped onto the mattress, pushing off his shoes and taking off the Deadpool mask he still wore under his hoodie. “So whaddya say, Mario Kart? Or do you have homework first? I just had a thought! I could probably design the Spidey-suit in Animal Crossing…” he chattered on.

Of all the things Peter liked about being around Wade, one of the top five was that it was so easy. Wade was more relaxed about his whole “superhero” thing than Aunt May, and less stuck up about it than the Avengers. Although Peter wanted to protect him, he could take care of himself, and he would never die from being around someone as high of a target as Spider-Man. Not only that, he was fun to talk to, and it didn’t feel like Peter had to put on a show. They could just be together and have fun.

On the other hand, if his past failed relationships— _friendships, ‘Pool’s just a friend_ —had anything to teach him, maybe this whole “not talking about feelings” thing would come back and bite him in the butt.

_Oh well. I just wanna figure out how to get him to stick around. For now, that would be enough._


	9. Cozy

Deadpool didn’t remember ever getting this much good sleep. It was more than just that he had a cozy place to stay—even Peter’s couch had somehow been a cozier space than he had thought to make himself since joining the army—but sleeping barely an arm’s length from Peter was somehow safe in a way his other sleeping spots were not. Maybe it was just the alpha hormones. Wouldn’t that be ironic? The scent of an alpha, which usually made him so uncomfortable, was now putting him to sleep.

He didn’t think it was just that, though. Peter usually drifted to sleep first, and it was almost impossible to feel unsafe with a sleeping Spidey-Baby around.

{Awww, he looks so _cute!_ }

[He’s drooling, is that really actually cute?]

{Oh fuck off, he _trusts us!_ He’s the cutest fucking thing I have _ever seen._ }

[Don’t tell _him_ that, he’s still an alpha, no matter how cute—]

{He wouldn’t mind, he doesn’t mind when we call him baby boy…}

[Oooh, yeah, when we call him baby boy, he _blushes._ ]

{I wonder how far down that blush goes.}

Okay, so it was _usually_ easier to sleep around Peter, when he wasn’t horny. At least the thought of Peter scenting his slick when he woke up was mortifying enough to get his thoughts back on track. 

He also figured out Peter’s schedule, so he could sleep on the mattress while he was at school, surrounded by their mixed scents. Not that he would ever tell Peter that.

It was just so comfortable. It shouldn’t really have been a surprise when Wade drifted off next to Peter one night and dreamed about a low, almost-growling sound. It didn’t sound threatening or bad, just a little out of place. Wade hazily wondered what it might be, coming back to consciousness very slowly, because he was so cozy—

Until he realized what the sound was. He was _purring._

He sat straight up, the sound stopping immediately, and looked for Peter, who was looking back at him… softly? Happily? He _had_ to be imaging that look.

[Was he awake? Did he know we were purring?]

_I don’t know,_ Wade thought miserably, feeling suddenly horribly exposed. No matter how hard he tried to pass everything else off as casual, purring was… It was just too intimate.

Wade didn’t _ever_ remember purring before. Some omegas could anytime they felt happy or do it on command; most reserved it for their loved ones or closest friends. Some omegas didn’t purr at all. Wade had thought he was in this last category, but it turned out he wasn’t. It turned out he just happened to purr only around the all-encompassing comfort of his best friend. Who he may or may not have a serious crush on.

Not only that, it wasn’t a high, gentle purr like most omegas. No, like everything else about him, it was ugly: way too rough, and low enough to be a motorcycle engine.

It was too much.

Wade hopped up and went to leave, avoiding Spidey’s eyes.

“Wade, wait!” Peter sat up too, looking a little loopy from being woken up. The small afghan he had been using for warmth fell to his waist in a sad-looking heap. Wade didn’t meet his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did you… Did you have a bad dream?”

Wade didn’t know how to tell him that everything was alright, and that _that_ was what was wrong. “I… I have to leave, baby b—Peter. I have to go.”

He didn’t have to be looking at the alpha to see his face fall. His whole body slumped, and he pulled his knees up to his chest.

{This _sucks_.}

[Why do you have to leave? He obviously wants you to stay!]

_I can’t._

Wade didn’t think much more after that and tried not to listen to the boxes until he was in bed at one of his hideouts. He was safe, he was warm, and he had a place to sleep, even if it wasn’t as nice as at Peter’s. Even if it smelled wrong.

{I miss Peter.}

_I miss him too._

Wade didn’t sleep well that night. The sheets were nicer than Peter’s were, and he had more blankets and pillows, which were nice… but the smell was wrong, and the apartment was too quiet. Even when he found a fan to turn on so that he would have some noise, he missed the sound of someone else breathing.

It had only been a few weeks. How could he have become so dependent?

[It’s not like we slept much better than this _before_ we crashed at Peter’s…]

_Ugh. I can’t even argue with that._

In the morning, Wade’s phone went off. He had almost forgotten he had the webslinger’s number. Peter had been with him or at class for so long it had hardly ever come up.

**10:05AM: Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to. I hope you’re alright.**

Wade didn’t really know what to do, so he didn’t text back. 

**12:15PM: Hey, did you get my text?**

**1:53PM: Please text me back so I know you’re okay.**

**4:01PM: Wade, honey, I’m so sorry, please just let me know if you’re okay?**

Wade almost broke down and responded, because what on earth did Spidey have to apologize for? But he still didn’t actually know what to say. He was still staring at his phone when the next text came in.

**4:04PM: I’m sorry if calling you honey makes you uncomfortable! I won’t do it again**

{You have to DO SOMETHING!}

[PLEASE text him back, if you don’t I SWEAR TO GOD-]

**_4:07PM: Sorry petey-pie! My phone was out of battery, no worries, I’ll be there later!_**

{That was the stupidest fucking excuse I have EVER seen—}

[You _do_ realize he can see that you read his texts, right?]

_Ah, fuuuuuck._

Wade had to figure out a way to make it up to him. He might have been able to stay away normally, but Peter thinking that _he_ was the one who had done something wrong? The merc couldn’t let that happen.

He paced, thoughts running in circles. What could he do to make Peter feel better? He tried to remember what he’d done in other relationships, but in those cases, make-ups usually consisted of something sexual. While he would be more than happy to do whatever Petey wanted him to, he didn’t think that would make things better.

{As much fun as sucking his dick would be, he probably doesn’t want you that way.}

[But even if he did, do you think that would even work? He’s _so good._ You should just talk to him!]

_How am I supposed to make things better if I’ve never had someone like Peter before?_

Finally, he thought of it. When his mother was sad, she pulled all of the pillows and blankets in the house into her own personal room, slightly separated from the master bedroom. She would bring Wade in with her and read to him or nap. Once, when Wade had made a pillow-fort for her, she had gotten happy enough to purr. That was something, right? Wade knew that Peter was an alpha, but he still seemed to like to be cozy—seeing him wear the Spider-Man sweater that Aunt May had finished was a _treat._

He had lots of blankets here, right? He could just bring them over to Peter’s house; he had left most of the blankets from his bed in his bedroom. Wade could see why; sharing a mattress was fun and comfy but sharing a blanket? He was sure Peter didn’t want to do that with him. Well, with these blankets, there would be more than enough for the two of them, and they were definitely fluffier and less thread-bare than some he’d found at Peter’s place.

{I like where this is going! CUDDLES to make up! Sex later!}

[Well— Actually, that’s not a bad plan, especially for you.]

_Oh, come on. This is just to say sorry for ignoring him, this is NOT to get into his pants._

{Like you would say no to make-up sex!}

Shaking off the boxes continued chatter, Wade checked the clock. 4:20 p.m. _Ha._ Peter would still be at school now, and then he would go home to do homework before (usually) going on patrol. He had time to bring them all over.

He felt an odd warmth at the thought of gifting his baby boy all of these cozy things. This would be _good._


	10. Sheets and Comforters

Peter wasn’t sure what had gone wrong.

He had been gently pulled from sleep in the middle of the night by a low rumbling sound. He’d thought for a second it was the sound of a vehicle on the street below, or maybe some kind of low-level earthquake, but it seemed too near, and his Spidey-sense wasn’t going off at all. Whatever it was, it was kind of a pleasant sound. Comfortable. Cozy, even.

When he finally realized it was Wade purring, it made more sense. It was his new favorite sound in the _whole world_ ; this strong, beautiful man was comfortable enough to purr in front of _him?_ The purr was strong enough that the mattress was vibrating slightly, and it was _delicious_. That must have been what woke him up in the first place. Now that he realized what it was, the vibrating sensation was almost ticklish; it felt like the sound itself was rubbing against him in his bones.

He was sleepy enough that his brain wasn’t thinking about curbing his reaction. He was so comfortable, and it felt so _good_. He was _enjoying_ it. He was getting hard, but with no real purpose—it felt relaxed, lazy, erotic, _joyful_. Wade’s scent was only amplifying the feeling; he smelled fantastic. Peter had tried not to think about Wade that way if he could help it, but now, he couldn’t help but notice how close they were, even lying a couple of feet apart. He wondered if he was imagining the warmth coming from Wade’s body. He felt almost drunk.

But the moment didn’t last. Peter noticed his friend start to wake up, and then suddenly notice what was happening. The sweet omega scent was suddenly tinged sour with stress. Peter wanted to touch him, to put his hand out and comfort him and maybe get him to make that delicious sound again, see what changed, but it suddenly seemed like there was an almost physical block between their chosen sides of the mattress. He couldn’t reach out now, and he suddenly felt more than a little awkward about his own reaction.

_He couldn’t have seen that, right? His eyes were closed before he sat up, and I have this afghan… And besides, he probably just startled himself, right?_

Wrong. Wade had been upset, and left, and Peter didn’t know what to do.

Had he done the wrong thing? Should he have reached out, made sure the omega was okay? Peter was so sure he hadn’t noticed his reaction at the time, but… _oh_ fuck, _did I make him feel awkward? Unsafe? He still called me baby boy… If he_ didn’t _notice, then why did he leave?_

What was even going on?

Peter’s apprehension grew throughout the day as none of his texts were returned. It wasn’t like ‘Pool to ever ignore texts. Would he not respond if he were mad? Peter got more and more angry at himself for sending message after unanswered message, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

Maybe Wade was busy? Maybe he was in trouble somehow? That couldn’t have been right because all of Peter’s texts were left on read, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t look at his phone…

But apparently, his phone had been “out of battery.” Sure. Peter thought that probably meant he just didn’t know what to say. _I fucked up so bad, and I don’t even know how to fix it. I’m not even really sure what I did._

Maybe the mattress would make Wade uncomfortable now. Maybe he should put it back… or get a different mattress for his bed and stop sleeping right next to him like a creep.

Peter’s mind drifted back to the purr he had heard in the night, and almost didn’t want to face this. He knew, rationally, that he wanted to fix this just to be normal again with his best friend, but a small part of him knew that he also wanted to fix this to hear that purr again, to see Wade so cozy, so trusting… He felt like the worst sort of traitor for wanting something Wade so obviously was uncomfortable with. He was an awful friend, and he wouldn’t be mad if Wade kept him at arm’s length from now on. He’d get over this stupid crush—or whatever it was. He’d be fine.

After all that, walking into an apartment full of what looked like the entire “Bed” section of a Bed, Bath & Beyond was _not_ what he was expecting whatsoever. Wade was sitting in the middle of the mattress he had set out, surrounded with expensive-looking blankets of all kinds. There were even more sheets and comforters on the couch. It seemed like he had chosen a few to curl up with and left the rest for Peter to choose from.

As much as Peter valiantly tried to ignore it, he couldn’t help but think the omega on his mattress looked _adorable_ ; he just wanted to cover him with all of the blankets and cuddle the fuck out of him. _Fuck._

This time, it was Wade’s turn to fish for an explanation that wasn’t forthcoming, and Peter didn’t trust his own tongue not to say something stupid.

Wade seemed to be listening to his boxes again. “Uh. So. Your blankets kind of suck, so I brought over some of my own.”

Peter just blinked. That didn’t explain _anything_. He had expected Wade to be mad, to be _something_ , but this? This was not something Peter had been prepared for. Wade was apparently fine with the mattress, fine with Peter, so why hadn’t he responded all day? Maybe he _hadn’t_ noticed Peter’s reaction after all.

“Uh… I put some out for me, but I thought you might want to choose your own? My mom really liked… blankets…” Wade trailed off, shrinking into himself. Some piece of it finally clicked in Peter’s mind; this was a peace offering. Was it an apology for not texting back? For running away in the first place? Did it matter?

Peter walked slowly over to the couch and picked up a blue downy comforter. The scent that came off of it was overwhelmingly _Wade_ , layers of sweetness and almonds. While Peter could tell that it wasn’t as happy as the scent usually permeating his apartment, he still had to stop himself from just sticking his nose in it. _Don’t act like a creep. Don’t scare him away again._

“Um. These are great. Thanks, Wade,” Peter managed to get out. _How do I fix this? How did he act so natural when I brought a fucking mattress out?_ He took in a deep breath, rewarded with not only the scent of omega, but their _mixed_ scent. Perfect. He could do this. “So… tacos?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading/kudos/comments! I didn't expect this much of a response, you all are fantastic!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


	11. Lace Webs

Wade felt like he was in a state of waiting, but he wasn’t necessarily sure what for.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was different with Peter now. Unless he was only imagining that? It seemed on the surface like everything was basically normal. They went on patrol together, they played video games together, they both slept on the mattress, now each in their own blankets. Still, something seemed different; Peter seemed less relaxed, more awkward, and Wade didn’t know quite why.

{Well, you’re not exactly as relaxed as you were before either.}

_That’s because I don’t want to purr again! What if he finally decides I’m making it weird or being_ too _omega, and kicks me out?_

[More like, what if he finds out how much you’re in love with him?]

_What?! Pfft, noooo…_

{We’re literally inside your head, dumbass.}

[Yeah. We can tell you’re trying not to flirt with him.]

_Noooo..._

Whatever the reason, after the night Wade came back with the blankets, Peter was definitely more distant, more polite. While Wade desperately wanted things to go back to how they were before, he wasn’t sure if he could get them there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to let himself, either.

Some of the tension between them seemed to manifest in constant re-adjustment of the blankets on their mattress. At first, Wade thought he was being a bit weird for switching which blankets he was using each day, and keeping the rest on the couch, but then he noticed Peter did it too.

At least Peter had started to touch him again. After that awkward day, he had seemed hesitant to even suggest swinging with him on his back like normal. Wade didn’t want to push the issue, but he was delighted with every bit of touch he could get from his Spider-Baby. Swinging on his back eventually turned into casual touching turned into Wade playing with Peter’s hair, and the alpha enjoying it, or at least enough to tolerate it.

Wade was delighted whenever Peter instigated the contact. The main time this happened was when they were swinging around on patrol. Wade couldn’t blame Spidey for seeming most back to normal there, of course; that was when they were both suited up, when all of his scars were covered. Maybe Peter liked him best then.

‘Pool was also excited when Peter touched him at other times—including during a full-on blanket fight. It started when Peter won at Mario Kart for the fifth time in a row.

“Best out of eleven?”

“No way! I won best out of five, then best out of seven, then best out of nine, so I won!”

“Aww, come on, Pete, are you worried you’d lose if we keep going?” Wade gave him his best puppy dog look up through his non-existent lashes, fully expecting his friend to take it as the joke it (mostly) was.

“Aw, my heart, Wade! You can’t look at me like that!” Peter took Wade’s stunned silence as an opportunity to flip a corner of a blanket over his head and tackle him to the mattress. Wade had to focus on not squealing, and instead, used the momentum to roll over and pin Peter down instead. Peter reached up to grab a blanket bundle from the couch and whacked Wade with it, laughing through the blanket that was now covering _his_ face.

After several more rolls, Peter managed to get Wade tangled up enough that he had time to hop up and run to his bedroom.

“Aw, Petey-Pie, you’re just gonna get me wound up and leave me here?” Wade immediately regretted the innuendo, but he wasn’t _all_ joking; Peter’s occasional show of super-spider force was _way_ too hot, and if he wasn’t careful, Peter would soon be able to tell. 

Peter was back in seconds, still laughing at him. “You could get free if you wanted to! I just needed to get _these_ ,” he said, pulling out two pillows from behind his back. He tossed one to ‘Pool, who was still struggling to get out of the blanket mess he was tangled in, and used the other to gently boop him on the head.

“Pillow fight!” Wade squealed, not even bothering to hide the excitement in his voice this time. “It’s _on_ , baby boy!”

Peter laughed, and the match started for real. At first, they mostly kept the fight to the mattress; this idea was quickly abandoned when Peter dodged a hit by jumping up and sticking to the ceiling, his shirt falling up his body.

{Wow, I never thought a barefoot Spidey hanging from the ceiling would be so _hot_. Look at those abs!}

[Weren’t you wondering just the other day if he could still stick to things while naked?}

“Well, now we know! I wonder if his dick is sticky?” Wade accidentally spoke out loud, which—embarrassing as it was—startled Peter enough for him to get a good solid hit with a pillow. Peter must have leapt off the ceiling at the same time, because instead of a regular hit from the pillow like Wade was expecting, he sent the web-slinger across the room into one of the shelves.

“FUCK!” Peter gasped, having fallen onto his back in an attempt to catch as many falling tech pieces and books as possible.

“Fuck, sorry baby boy! Are you alright?” Wade was already rushing across the room, helping a gasping Peter back to his feet, when he realized the gasp was actually Peter laughing so hard he wasn’t making any sound.

“You—” Peter wheezed. “You think my dick might be sticky?”

Wade was caught between hilarity and mortification. “I mean, I just always thought it was your suit that could stick to things…”

Peter was still laughing as he picked up the last few pieces that had accidently spilled onto the floor and mattress from the impact.

“Oh my God, that’s fantastic! I only stick when I want to, thankfully. Sticking with my dick sounds _terrible_. Here, look at these; I _do_ make all of my web tech, but I can stick and unstick to things all by myself.”

“Wow, Webs! That’s awesome! And oh… sorry about your…” Wade waved to the broken circuit-board looking thing in Peter’s hands.

“Raspberry pi. It’s okay, though, it shouldn’t be too hard to fix. Although…”

Wade could see the wheels turning in Peter’s head as he looked around the room.

“If we wanted to have more pillow fights, I could probably make us some web-walls that we could bounce off of… what do you think?”

Wade had a brief vision of himself, webbed up on a white wall made of Spidey-silk, with a naked Peter gently crawling up his body as he secured his wrists. _Fuck_. He pushed that thought out of his head, trying to make his voice as natural as possible. “That’s a great idea!”

{ _Yeah_ it is.}

_Fuck off_.

“Here, I can make it around the mattress, so we have a soft place to land…”

Wade sat in the center of the mattress and watched while Peter worked with several different web-shooters around the mattress’ edge. It looked like Peter had started off with a regular, square construction; there were solid, square support beam-looking strands and a door-shape along the edge nearest the hall area. As he continued, though, the walls started to look more organic; there were triangles and spiderweb patterns, and some sections almost looked like lace. It was _beautiful,_ and it surrounded the mattress like he might have imagined the four-poster bed of a spider-fairy. A small, inner part of Wade was very, very pleased.

Wade lost track of time—he would watch his Spidey’s bubble-butt while he worked as long as he could—but after a while, Peter hopped down to sit next to him on the mattress, apparently satisfied.

“So… does it work? It’s like we’re in a magic cave! It looks so pretty, baby boy, I don’t wanna break it!”

Peter gave him a shit-eating grin, and Wade felt a thrill run down his spine. “Watch this!” Peter picked up Wade and tossed him at one of the walls; Wade felt a soft impact like a sideways trampoline and bounced right back.

{Holy shit.}

[He made us a cozy little cave—]

{ _And_ he can throw us against the wall?}

[Fuck, that’s hot.]

Wade couldn’t help himself; as soon as he found his feet again from being bounced across the room, he tackled Peter into a huge hug. “Thank you, baby boy! This is AWESOME!”

“You bet!” Peter laughed, and promptly hit him with a pillow again.


	12. Plushies and Surprises

Peter was glad things were mostly back to normal with Wade. He had noticed that after ‘Pool brought blankets, he seemed more nervous around him, but he didn’t quite know how to fix it. He tried to act as normal as possible, but he knew he wasn’t quite hitting the mark. He _still_ wasn’t sure why Wade had been so upset, so he tried not to touch or flirt with Wade unless he started it—and then he noticed Wade wasn’t flirting with him at all anymore.

That was totally fine; he could get used to it. He still wanted to be Wade’s friend and make him as comfortable as possible, and if that meant no more flirting and cuddling, he could do that. Anyway, he loved all of the blankets Wade brought over so much that it nearly made up for it. While Peter managed to curb his impulse to just pile them all on top of Wade and cuddle the fuck out of him, he _didn’t_ manage to stop his impulse from always using the blankets that smelled most like almonds.

Peter wanted to make Wade as cozy as possible. Okay, so _maybe_ it was to hear him purr again? But if he didn’t it was _fine_. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself. The web-cave was definitely a stroke of genius on that front. Wade seemed to love it, and his happiness made Peter want to glow.

Pillow fights were added to the nightly repertoire of games after that, and the tension seemed to be broken. The cozy cave just seemed to get better and better. Peter had made sure that the weave in front of the TV was thin enough to see through with no problem, even for Wade’s eyes, and soon after he added a lining of pockets near the ceiling for drinks and snacks. All of the blankets migrated to the inside of the Spidey-cave, instead of on the couch; going out to move things around seemed more and more of an inconvenience. It was just more fun to hang out in the little alcove, after all.

After the first pillow accidentally got ripped in half during their pillow fight, Wade brought more from his safehouses, which Peter _loved_ —they all smelled like almonds. For a barely-hanging-on college kid, the pile of blankets and pillows seemed like the height of luxury.

It was almost three months after Wade started hanging around Peter’s apartment all the time that they walked past a small shop front on patrol that held small plushies of a few of the superheroes in the city. Peter always found that kind of merchandise kind of uncomfortable; he was just doing what he should because he could, and he didn’t really like the hero-worship. A different, smaller part of him found it irritating because he wasn’t getting any money for it. At least this shop looked like it was a bit classier than most; it looked like the kind of yarn and curiosity store that his Aunt May might like to go to. It had been a slow morning for the heroes, and the sun was just coming up; the store looked like it had just opened.

Peter didn’t think much of the plushies at the time, but they hadn’t walked much further along the street before he heard ‘Pool sniffle behind his mask.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine!” he sniffed again, sounding distinctly watery.

“Here—” Peter picked up Wade and swung them to the roof of a nearby building. “What’s wrong?”

“Aww, it’s stupid, baby boy,” Wade slumped, unhappy. Was he in pain?

Peter made sure they weren’t being watched and took off his mask. Wade leaned closer to him, seeming to chase his scent. Peter tilted his head, showing his neck.

“Whatever it is, it’s fine, Wade. Are you okay?”

Wade sat down on the roof, still curling towards him. “That Spider-Man plushie. It was just so cute.”

Peter almost laughed, but Wade still seemed genuinely upset. “So? Go buy it if you want it?”

Wade looked up at him, and this time when his mask’s eyes widened, Peter could imagine the beautiful puppy-dog eyes beneath. “You don’t think it’s weird, or… creepy?”

 _Oh._ “No, of course not. If you like it, you should get it.” _Fuck, why is he so fucking cute?_

Peter brought Wade back to the small shop. He had to admit, that stupid toy in Deadpool’s arms was almost criminally adorable. Still, something still didn’t seem quite right, and Peter just wanted to put him in their little cave until he figured out what it was.

He didn’t get that far before Wade slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, hell, that was dumb. FUCK.”

“What’s wrong?”

Wade didn’t stop to wait for him this time. “Nothing, baby boy, I just gotta… I’m gonna go for a bit, I’ll text you! Don’t wait up for me!”

Peter looked after him, befuddled, but figured he would find out whatever it was later.

It was a Friday morning, and he didn’t usually have classes on Fridays, so he decided to go home and try to get some sleep, hoping that Wade would text him back about whatever it was soon.

Getting back in the apartment, though, Peter was restless. There were so many blankets and pillows he should have been comfortable no matter what, but he kept just wanting to move them around. He needed to sleep, but he couldn’t figure out how to place things the right way; should this pillow be here or there? Should he be using this blanket or that one? Why was this so difficult?

It was several more hours before he gave up on the sleep that wasn’t coming. Maybe it was that he missed Wade; he could smell his scent all over the apartment and couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was wrong, and that Wade should be there with him.

He had just gotten up to make himself a cup of coffee and try to do some homework when he heard a knock at the door.

Peter hurried to the bathroom to double-check he was wearing normal clothes and didn’t have webbing in his hair or odd stains on his under-shirt before he went to the entry-hall, firmly shutting the second door behind him before opening the door to the rest of the apartment building.

“Aunt May!” Peter was surprised to see her. It had been a while, and he was happy to see her, but… something put the hairs on the back of his neck on end. “How nice to see you! Where’s Lucy?”

“Hi Peter!” May pulled him in for a hug, and Peter could tell that he was being stiff, but didn’t quite know why. “Lucy’s at school; she’s been going to your old elementary school while they get the court case finished up. I was right that you have Fridays off, right? I just came by to say hi and see how you were doing. Here, I brought some cookies!” May pushed past him to open the door to his apartment, and Peter realized what it was. He didn’t want her scent—he didn’t want any other alpha scent—in his apartment. What had gotten into him?

May didn’t get two steps into his apartment before she stopped cold.

“Peter Benjamin Parker! Why on earth didn’t you tell me you have a mate?”

_What?_

“What?”

Aunt May turned around and looked at him incredulously. “A _mate_ , Peter. Why didn’t you tell me you have a mate? You must be very close, that’s the biggest nest I’ve ever seen.” May started walking right back out the door and pushed the box of cookies into a stunned Peter’s hands. “And why the hell did you make your nest in the _living room_ , of all places? And also, where are they? So close to their heat, I’d expect them to be here.”

Peter felt like his brain was melting. A _mate?_ What the fuck? She must be talking about Wade, right? He was the only other person who had been in his apartment, but… A _mate?_ He only _wished_ Wade would want to be his.

If he were being honest with himself, he had wanted that even before he had heard the big omega purr, but just assumed that it would never happen. Why did Aunt May think they were together? Although he supposed he hadn’t been around omega’s homes much before, and never around ones with mates; Aunt May was an alpha, and Uncle Ben had been a beta. His own father had been an omega, but he didn’t remember his parents being together, or—

Nesting. _The biggest nest. Is she talking about… the cave… that we made… together…_ For half a second, Peter thought he might have been wrong, maybe Wade did think they were together? But… Wade was so careful not to flirt anymore. That couldn’t be right.

Then the last part sunk in. _So close to a heat._ Fuck. So _that_ was what had been wrong with Wade that morning. If Aunt May could tell that Wade was close to a heat, the scent must be affecting Peter too, although hadn’t known it; of _course_ , he wanted Wade to be in the cave. Their _nest_.

 _Their_ nest.

Ah. Fuck.

May had stopped talking and was looking Peter up and down; they were still standing in the entrance hall. “Peter… I know you made that nest, it has ‘Spider-Man’ written all over it. You did know what you were doing, right?” May looked like she was caught between total exasperation and regret; it was an expression Peter had only seen a few times since she had been his only guardian.

The first time was when she realized he had no idea how to shave after he went for months gaining chin scruff. When Aunt May realized it wasn’t just a fashion statement and that he genuinely didn’t know what to do, she had helped him look up videos online, right after reprimanding him for not asking her for help in the first place.

This seemed like the same thing. May never realized he didn’t know what nests looked like, and he had never thought to ask.

“Ah… no.” Peter felt totally out of his depth. “I mean… I wanted… I didn’t realize… It just seemed like… We were just playing video games!” Why did this feel like she had caught him kissing someone under the covers? And under it all, Peter was still on edge at her alpha scent.

Ah. Because Wade was close to a heat. Of course. Fuck.

Aunt May looked at him and seemed to determine that he was telling the truth. She sighed. “Where are they, Pete? If you didn’t realize… baby, you should do whatever you think is right, but if they’ve built this nest with you, this is where they’re going to get through their heat most easily.” She tilted her head, looking at Peter’s shocked face carefully. “Is your mate this Deadpool fellow? Lucy mentioned he was an omega when I asked her why she trusted him…”

Peter didn’t know if he could respond to that. Did he _want_ Wade to be his mate? Of course. Did Wade want _him?_ Maybe, maybe not. Did they accidentally make a nest together, resulting in Wade having a heat in his goddamn living room suddenly a good idea? Yes.

Peter nodded, somewhat shakily. “His name is Wade.” _Fuck._


	13. Daydreams

Wade felt so stupid. Why the fuck hadn’t he noticed his usual pre-heat symptoms? Why did he have to act like a love-sick idiot in front of Peter to realize it?

Wade typically felt more emotional than normal before heats, but that usually manifested itself as being depressed and angry at the world—well, even more so than normal. And why shouldn’t he be? He was usually alone and had to face his heat by himself. But this pre-heat, he just felt extra happy; hanging out with Peter was the best thing in the world. Wade felt, possibly for the first time, lucky to be alive.

Until he had absolutely freaked out about the plushie Spider-Man. He couldn’t help himself, it was just so cute, and it was a knit texture, just like Peter’s Spider-Man sweater. He just wanted to hug it so bad, and curl up on the mattress at Pete’s apartment…

It wasn’t until he realized how flushed and hot he was that he recognized what was going on. Fuck.

Wade went as quickly as he could to his normal safe house for getting through heats. It had water bottles, food, all of Wade’s toys, and the biggest bed of all of his apartments.

{Ah, fuck. You just _had_ to take all of the blankets and pillows out of here, huh?}

_Well… It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before._

So of course, he felt worse than he ever had before. He flopped onto the bed in his suit, not even wanting to take it off, and couldn’t get himself comfortable. He had the Spider-Man plushie, of course, which helped a little bit, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the little spider-cove, and all of his blankets and pillows.

[And Peter’s scent. He smelled _so good_ last night…]

Wade’s core ached and he felt himself start to slick. Peter’s knot would feel _heavenly_ , and he knew it, but that was totally out of the question.

_So why can’t I even decide to stay here long enough to take off my suit?_

If he took it off now, he knew he’d have to stay inside ‘til his heat was over; his scent would spill to the outside and his scent blockers would be practically worthless. Even now, he’d have to clean his suit thoroughly before he ever wore it again.

He _wanted_ to take it off; it would help with the heat, and the itchiness of his skin, and maybe if he took it off, he could take a cool shower…

But he couldn’t let go of the thought of the pile of blankets in Peter’s apartment. That was just… where he was supposed to be.

Wade spent the morning as comfortably as possible in his suit, not able to sleep through the constant discomfort. He thought about texting Peter why he had run off, but at this point, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t say something like, “Come knot me, baby boy!”

{We could do that… I mean… Some omegas ask for platonic heat partners, right? We could just—}

[Get our heart broken? Absolutely not.]

{Knot.}

[Now is _knot_ the time for puns.]

{Ha.}

_Fuck off._

Wade was looking at his phone, trying to decide what to tell Peter, when the text came in.

**11:13AM: Hey, give me a call when you get the chance?**

Wade’s finger hit the call button before he could give it a second thought. Peter picked up immediately.

“Wade! Hi! Are you… okay?”

Wade felt himself slick even more at the sound of his alpha’s voice. No, not _his_ alpha’s. Peter’s. Wade had to clear his throat several times before he could talk. “Yep. I’m good, baby boy. Peachy!”

_Don’t talk too much. Don’t do it. Don’t do it._

“So… Um. Aunt May dropped by to drop off some cookies, and, well…” Wade heard Peter take a long breath on the other side of the phone. “She mentioned that we… Well. She looked at the Spidey-cave thing and… She said we’re mates and that it’s a nest?”

{What.}

[What.]

_What._

Wade didn’t even need an inner voice to tell him to shut up, that news knocked him speechless. _A nest? Fuuuuck._ Why didn’t he realize that was what they were making?

“She. Uh. Also mentioned you would be starting your heat soon, and that you’ll probably be most comfortable in the… nest.”

Wade didn’t know what to say to that. Was Peter inviting him to have a heat in his apartment?

{YEAH! GET IT!}

[In his apartment doesn’t mean _on his knot_ , he’s probably just inviting you over to nest. And probably only that because he feels like he has to.]

“Yeah, he didn’t say if he would be there or—” Wade shut his mouth.

“I’m so sorry about this Wade. I wish… well. I just want you to be comfortable and safe, so… if you want to come over, you can. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being here, so I can go over to Aunt May’s if you want. I’ll do anything I can to help you feel better about the whole thing, I’m so sorry. I can get you food, or whatever you need…”

Peter sounded so lost, Wade was sure he hadn’t meant to do this. _Of_ course _he didn’t mean to make a nest with me._

But he couldn’t turn down the chance to have his heat in that space. In _their nest_. Fuck.

“I’ll be there.”

“Do you need me to come get you?” Peter sounded a little better now that a decision had been made, and Wade felt better too. He was going to get through this whole mortifying ordeal; he would be as safe as possible at Peter’s house and get out of there afterwards. He wouldn’t pin down his Spidey-Baby with a mate he didn’t want, but he couldn’t turn down this opportunity either.

“No, baby boy, don’t worry about me. I’ve still got my suit on, and it hasn’t really hit yet.”

“I can be in my room if you want someone near? Or if you’d rather have the apartment to yourself, I can leave…”

Wade thought it sounded like Peter liked the idea of being away from their nest as little as he did himself.

“No, of course not! I don’t wanna kick you out of your space, Spidey-kins! I’ll get there soon!” And with that, he hung up.

_Okay, I just need to get through this heat. And then I’ll leave him alone_.

{ _Sure_ you will.}

_Fuck off_.

Wade pulled out a duffle bag he usually used to carry weapons on hits and filled it with the water cases and toys, flushing at the thought of Peter seeing his things. He still felt ridiculous about it, but he placed the Spider-Man plushie squarely on top.

And then there wasn’t anything to do but go. Wade knew, rationally, that the journey was no different than any other time he’d gone to Peter’s apartment, but he couldn’t help but feel like this time he was simultaneously being pulled there by a magnet and dreading his eventual arrival.

[Maybe he’s waiting for us in the nest.]

{Maybe he’s waiting for us _naked!_ }

Wade knew he wouldn’t be, but he couldn’t help but run through vivid daydreams of what it would be like to have his alpha, for real. Even if Peter just helped him as a friend, he was sure it would be the best he had ever had. He tried not to think about it; he _couldn’t_ let himself ask.

When Wade came in through the window (thank goodness he was still coherent enough to work the grappling hook), Peter wasn’t in the main living area.

Wade found a text he had missed on his phone.

**12:01PM: I’ll be in my room when you get here, just want you to feel comfy! Let me know if you need anything, or if there’s anything I can do to help**

{You could come out here and—}

_And_ nothing. _Fuck off._

Unlike at his own apartment, Wade had surprisingly little issue with taking off his suit in the comfort of the nest.

_Their nest._ How could he have missed that? It was the _perfect _nest. The mix of their scents made Wade want to just _melt_ , it was so _right._ Wade almost felt that he should put on some of his clothes, he knew he probably had some around here—fuck, this was the stupidest typical fucking nest, they had pillows and blankets and _old clothes that smelled like them_ —but he didn’t want to. He wanted to cover himself in blankets and just burrow, so he did.__

____

____

It didn’t take long for the heat to come on in full. It usually took a lot longer, but here he was, surrounded by the smell of his alpha, so of _course_ it would hit harder and faster.

{Harder and faster: title of my next sex tape.}

[Ha. I can think of some things that I want harder and faster.]

{That was… that was the joke…}

[Just because _you_ made a joke doesn’t mean I can’t still be horny.]

_Fuck._

Wade spent half a moment trying to remember if they had put a plastic cover on this mattress before making the nest before realizing it didn’t matter. If they hadn’t, Peter probably didn’t have one. He wouldn’t bother him about something like that now, not when he knew it was probably too late anyway; he could feel his slick starting to soak the blanket directly beneath him. 

Although, what would Peter do if he walked through his bedroom door now, naked and dripping? The vivid picture of Peter walking up to him and pressing him back against a wall came to mind, the image all the more vibrant with his heat-fever. He knew he could—his Spider-Baby was _strong_. Wade let his hand wander to his rapidly hardening cock and let himself sink into the thought.

Would Peter like his scent? Would he just want to go feral, tie Wade up and have his way with him? The intricate web-walls surrounding him lent him the idea of strands of webbing covering his entire body in a secure latticework of knots. Maybe Peter could do that for him, turn him into a _pretty_ omega. Would Peter want to take his time, or would he jump right to sex? Wade couldn’t decide which image he liked more—Peter slowly tying him up, positioning his body, making sure everything was secure before slowly fucking him into oblivion… or, just as good in it’s own way, Peter having him as fast as possible, desperate to knot his omega.

Wade almost moaned at the image, reaching for the toys in the duffle bag—he might as well try to get this round of heat over with as soon as he could—but his hand was stopped by the Spider-Man plush. _Well, at least I have a bit of him._ Wade put the doll with the other pillows. As much as it was a reminder that he royally fucked up that morning, it _was_ kind of a nice addition to the nest. _Their_ nest. Wade tried not to think about the fact that this was probably the last time this would happen. Peter deserved a better mate than him.

Wade pulled out his smallest toy, a little pink dildo. He might want more in the next few days, but right now, he just wanted to get off so he could think a bit more clearly and get used to the situation.

He laid back on the mattress, hardly settling in before the idea came again with that same tantalizing clarity; Peter holding him, fucking him… Wade nestled back into the blankets, pulling a lighter sheet up over his head, covering his whole body. Maybe he could pretend he had some privacy.

{Oh, come on. You would _love_ to have Spidey watching you.}

[If not for the scars.]

Wade tried not to think about it. He reached down with the toy, covering it in his slick before sliding it in and slowly pumping his cock. He should try to think about something else; he should try not to think about Peter, sitting in the next room, Peter, whose scent was covering the blankets around him.

Wade desperately cast around for fuel from past lovers; he’d had a few, before Weapon X, but they were more occasional fuckbuddies than anything else. He certainly had never gotten close enough to _nest_ with anyone. For all of his flirtatiousness, Wade didn’t really trust easily, even before he became Deadpool. No one _actually_ wanted a huge omega, not for keeps. But those encounters had been satisfying enough; they were kind enough to stick around for his whole heat, at least.

The images were disappointing. Even the memories of his lovers seemed to be less real than the daydream of Peter fucking him right now, grinding into him, holding him still—

Wade’s hips twitched involuntarily as he thought of Peter’s hands, so strong and careful with everything that he did. His fingers were strong enough to hold their combined bodyweight against the side of a building. What would they feel like _inside_ of him? Wade pressed deeper with his toy, trying to catch that sensation… And then, a thought that almost seemed more taboo, _what would they feel like on my skin?_ Wade’s imagination provided him the image of Peter, leaning over him, hands skimming all over Wade’s skin, eyes locked on him like he was something precious. He hadn’t been truly touched in _so long._

He imagined Peter leaning over him, pressing his face into his neck, rubbing on his scent glands. Wade’s hands were moving faster now; his mind casting about frantically for that one last thing that would put him over the edge, and then in his mind’s eye, Peter _kissed_ him, licking into his mouth like he couldn’t get enough, and Wade felt a burst of pleasure in his core and fell apart.

Wade came back to himself slowly, now covered in spend and slick alike, and sighed. At least the bathroom wasn’t in Peter’s room, so he wouldn’t have to parade past him like an unwanted couch-surfing fifth cousin, taking over his house.

This was going to be a long heat.


	14. For Keeps

Looking at the Spidey-cave again after Wade called, it was _so obvious_ that it was a nest. Now that he realized it, it was easier to make it _right_. Before, he had just been thinking about trying to go to sleep. Setting up the blankets and pillows for his ome—for Wade? That was much better. Peter thought for half a second about picking up the clothes that were strewn about the little hideout but couldn’t get himself to remove them. Selfishly, he wanted his scent to be there, to stay there when—

Peter tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t help but feel a jolt of arousal at the thought of Wade having a heat in his living room, of him getting off in this room for, what, three to five days? Maybe seven? Peter should have thought to ask.

He looked at the pockets filled with water and snacks he had made just the other day, and was both pleased and annoyed. At least they would have enough supplies, however long Wade’s heat was, but _fuck_ , it should have been so obvious.

Peter tried to settle as best he could in his own room. He put on his Spider-Man suit, thinking Wade shouldn’t have to deal with his scent right away. He didn’t want Wade to make any decisions that he might regret because of it. He would talk to Wade when this was over; he wanted the omega to be his mate for real, but he didn’t want to ask him to make that kind of choice when he might be compromised.

He could hear when Wade got into the apartment, of course, but the knowledge that his mate—no, _the omega_ —was just a wall away got harder to ignore as soon as Wade took his suit off. Peter almost felt voyeuristic, although he couldn’t see or hear him. His scent was enough to make Peter _hard._

The scent got stronger and stronger, and Peter found himself palming his erection through his suit; he didn’t want to take it off, but he also didn’t want to make a mess that he would have to clean off in the bathroom.

Ah fuck, the bathroom. It was connected to the main living area, so it wouldn’t be a problem for Wade, but Peter would have to get in there eventually.

_Of course I will, what the fuck was I thinking? I can’t just stay in my room with my Spider-Man suit on for a whole week!_

Unfortunately, Peter _did_ know what he was thinking. Every time he thought about the whole situation, he couldn’t help but picture himself _out there:_ helping Wade, holding him, cuddling him, whatever he wanted to do… But Peter knew that he would be unwelcome, and besides, Wade probably wouldn’t want him to give the kind of help he needed right now.

Peter distracted himself by trying to work on homework, or new tech, or even a new way of designing web walls, but he couldn’t focus on anything. Eventually, he resigned himself to walking in circles on the ceiling.

He could tell when Wade had cooled off both by the scent and by the sound of the shower running on the other side of the apartment. He felt himself relax a little bit at that—at least, he could think about things other than Wade long enough for his body to calm down. Still, Peter wondered what Wade would want now. Would he play video games? Would he like to cuddle? Would he just want to sleep?

Peter heard the shower turn off just before his phone rang. His first instinct was to throw it out the window. He had already told his professors he would be taking a week off, and if it was Jameson, he could go fuck himself for all he cared; there was nothing he could think of that would be more important than Wade right now. Then he saw that it was Wade himself, and he couldn’t pick up the phone fast enough.

“Wade?”

“Baby boy.” Wade’s voice sounded tired. Peter bet his did too; he knew they had both been awake far longer than normal.

“Are you alright? Can I get you anything? Do you need anything?” Peter had the overwhelming urge to make sure Wade was safe and happy. He’d go all the way across town to Wade’s favorite taco shop if he asked him to! Well, maybe not _all_ the way across town… He would go anywhere he could without leaving for more than fifteen minutes. That still gave him a pretty good radius.

“Aww, I’m fine, baby boy. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to.” Peter didn’t want to push, but he couldn’t help but offer.

Wade was quiet for a moment. “I just want you to…” he trailed off.

Peter tried to wait, to give Wade room to talk, but he couldn’t help himself. “Yes. I’ll do anything you want.”

“I didn’t even tell you what I wanted you to do,” Wade protested.

“Not yet, but you _should._ ” Peter held his breath. If Wade wanted cuddles, he’d hold him happily. If Wade wanted him to come join him in the Spidey-cave… He almost couldn’t let himself think about it; he wanted it so badly. If he wanted him to just stay in his room, he’d do it without complaint. If he wanted him to leave… Peter could do that, for Wade. But only if that was what he really wanted.

“Fuck. I’m fine, Petey-Pie, you don’t need to do anything, honest. I just, I don’t know, I want company, I guess.”

Peter’s heart leapt. “Of course!” He hung up the phone and practically bolted out of his bedroom door into the rest of the apartment. The scent was instantly stronger. Although Peter’s building overall had pretty good scent blockers, especially between apartments, there wasn’t much in the way of blocking within an individual living space. Peter was glad of that, now; if he hadn’t been smelling a watered-down version of it for the past hour, he would have been instantly hard when Wade’s scent hit him full-force.

Wade stepped out of the bathroom, covered head to toe in a purple duvet. His face was the only thing left uncovered, and Peter thought he looked adorable.

“Oooh, you’re going to be in your suit? Kinky,” Wade said, giving Peter a sweeping glance.

Peter was glad of his mask; he knew he was blushing. “I just didn’t want you to… I mean, if you want me to take it off, I will. But I thought the scent blockers might help, I guess. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do because of me—because of my scent.”

Wade gave a tired smile, not meeting his eyes. “Your scent is all over this apartment anyway, Webs. I won’t touch you if you don’t want. You should get comfy… If you want to stay,” he added with a wince. He didn’t seem to realize how much Peter wanted to be with him.

“Okay, give me two seconds,” Peter said, already turning back to his room to change. He put on his softest t-shirt and sweatpants, hoping Wade asking for company meant cuddles.

When he got back, Wade was standing on the mattress, still covered in the blanket. He was curled into himself, looking around at the pile of covers and pillows; Peter followed his gaze and saw the Spider-Man plushie from that morning. He had almost forgotten about it. Somehow, the sight of it there made him want to preen; Wade wanted a bit of him there, at least.

“We should go back after this and see if there’s a Deadpool one. It’d be a good addition.”

Wade’s head snapped up at that. “You want to keep the nest?”

Peter flushed. He really _hadn’t_ meant to have this conversation until Wade’s heat was over; but Wade seemed coherent enough now, and they could still talk about it later too.

“If you want? I didn’t realize… I mean, if I had known we were building a nest, I would have built it in the bedroom.” Peter tried to keep Wade’s gaze, tried to show him he was serious, but Wade wasn’t looking at him. His heart sank.

“Wade… I’m not going to kick you out if you don’t want the same thing. I know that right now isn’t the best time to talk about it… Hell, I know you might not ever want an alpha as a mate. Even if you did, why would you want _me?_ ” Peter rubbed his face, knowing his long, sleepless night meant he wasn’t being nearly as coherent as he needed to be in this situation. “I’m sorry for bringing this up now. How about we just sleep? I bet you’re tired.”

Wade still wasn’t looking at him, focusing instead on the blankets all around them, but he nodded. Peter glanced around as well, taking in the state of the nest. The blankets and pillows were sprawled all over, rather than split into two piles like normal.

“Do you want me to rearrange things?” Peter hoped the answer was a no; he wanted more than anything to just cover Wade with blankets and cuddle him like he’d been wanting to for the past week.

“Uh, no. I kinda just wanna cuddle, if you don’t mind…” Wade seemed unsure of himself, but at least he was asking for something.

“Of course!” Peter sat down, hoping to make Wade relax a little bit. Wade sat down as well, shifting the duvet around. Peter realized for the first time that Wade wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. He caught a glimpse of the larger man’s thick legs, and _fuck_ that was hot. Needing something to distract himself, he took more covers and tucked Wade in, shifting to sit behind him with his legs on either side and leaning back against the nest wall so Wade’s head was resting on his chest.

“Is this alright?” Peter checked. Unable to help himself, he rubbed the scent glands on his wrists along Wade’s shoulders, still covered by the duvet.

Wade seemed to sink into the contact, relaxing more and more. “Yeah… you don’t really want me though.” He seemed to be sleepy, now, almost talking to himself.

Peter stilled. “What do you mean? Of course I do!”

“You were so worried about your scent affecting me but didn’t think about how mine would be affecting you. It’s just that I’m in heat, Petey-Pie. It’s alright. After this is over, I’ll leave you alone...”

“ _Wade._ Do you really think that?” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He would respect Wade’s decision if he decided he didn’t want him, but— “You don’t get to decide what I feel, you handsome idiot. I’ve wanted you for a lot longer than this heat. I’m yours as long as you want to keep me, love.”

Wade didn’t have a response to that. Peter gave him his space, at least as far as conversation went. No matter how fine Wade seemed right now, this still wasn’t a good time for this discussion. Wade didn’t have to believe him right now. They had time.

Wade seemed to be drifting slowly to sleep, and it was all Peter could do to not lean forward and rub his face against the sweet scent glands on the omega’s neck. He wanted to show Wade that he cared, but it _had_ to be Wade making the first move. He contented himself with continuing to stroke along the duvet, squeezing Wade’s shoulders and rubbing away some of the tension.

Wade’s scent was slowly drifting back to simple sweetness, contentment overlaying the stress that had been there before. Peter thought he had finally drifted to sleep when he spoke again, almost in a whisper.

“I want to keep you.”


	15. What You Want

When Wade woke up, he was starting to get hot again. He felt disoriented, fuzzy-headed. He was sure something important had happened, but he couldn’t remember what. He remembered starting his heat, and then…

Oh right, _Peter._

Wade could have pushed off the conversation from before as a daydream, if not for the solid weight of the alpha he was lying back against. He had tucked Wade in, cuddled him, scented him, called him _love_. And more than that, he said he had felt that way for a while. Was this even real?

{That alpha scent is pretty real!}

Wade had to agree, Peter smelled _heavenly_. Somehow, the scent grounded him; a hallucination wouldn’t smell that vivid. Wouldn’t be that _good_. He shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable with the increasing warmth without just taking all his blankets off, and felt—

[Is that… his dick?]

{Daaamn! It seems his _johnson_ is alpha-sized, at least!)

“Sorry! I didn’t want to move out from under you when you were asleep. You seemed like you needed the rest.” Peter’s voice came from behind him, sounding slightly strangled. Wade realized he had been unintentionally rubbing up against him and sat up quickly. It was more than warmth, now—he noticed that his slick had started again, too.

“Fuck. Sorry, Petey-Pie.” Wade wanted to tell Peter he should leave now. He could tell the next wave of his heat was coming on, and he was already so hard. Whatever Peter had said before they fell asleep, that didn’t actually mean he wanted to bang. Peter was probably more affected by the proximity of an omega than he thought. “I’m sure Peter Jr. there is just overexcited because of my scent.”

“It’s not. I mean, that’s not the first time you’ve given me a hard-on,” Peter said, like he wasn’t dropping a life-altering bombshell on the omega.

{Squeeee! You’ve given _Spidey_ a _boner_ before? Ooooh, I hope it was when we were out on patrol!}

Wade finally turned around to look at Peter, who had sat up and drawn his knees up to his chest since Wade moved away. He was blushing, but still looking at Wade, smiling uncertainly. “Sorry? I mean… do you want me to leave?”

“No! I mean... Yeah, if you want to go?”

[Nooooo, tell him to stay! He would feel so good—]

{You’re gonna turn down the chance to ride that dick?}

[Take him to pound town?]

{Go to the bone zone?}

[Bump uglies?]

{Do the nasty?}

_If you two don’t shut up for the next hour, I’m gonna straight-up chop my dick off._

[Fine, go fuck yourself.]

{Zzzzzzzzip.}

Wade barely held in a disbelieving snort at Yellow’s imitation of a zipper over a mouth. _Thank fuck._

Peter was still looking at him, waiting for Wade’s focus again. Wade suddenly realized that no one had ever done that before. No one had ever known him well enough to tell when he was listening to the boxes, or cared. Peter did.

“Wade, it’s your choice. I want to do whatever you want me to, I promise. You just have to _tell me._ ”

Peter’s voice had slipped into something commanding, and Wade felt his mouth go dry. “Okay. Would you… stay here with me?”

“Yes.” Peter was smiling at him, encouraging him to continue.

“Why are you curled up in a ball?”

Peter huffed a laugh, drawing his knees further in. “I’m trying to exercise some self-control here.”

“Come cuddle me.”

Wade thought his own voice sounded pathetic, but Peter responded immediately like there was nothing he’d rather do. The alpha unfolded, shifting closer to him on the mattress before scooping him up and cradling him in his lap, purple duvet and all. Wade was suddenly aware all over again how strong Peter was, and thankful all over again for the blanket. Without it, he would have been exposed and dripping into Peter’s lap. Shame, he kind of liked the thing, and now it was ruined—at least until it was washed. Worth it.

Peter beamed up at him, pulling him close. “Is this alright?” He was careful to hug Wade with his chest, not hips, running his wrists along the blanket again.

“Yeah, it’s just, is it alright if I take this off? It’s alright if you don’t want me to, it’s just a little hot…”

“ _Wade_. I’ve _told_ you already, I really don’t mind your skin. Take it off.” Peter’s eyes looked hungrily over the duvet, skipping back up to catch Wade’s gaze with a blush. “Please.”

Peter leaned back on his hands to give him space. Wade maneuvered around so they were face to face, straddling the alpha’s legs, and slipped the blanket off of his shoulders. He had thought Peter would be polite about how he looked, grin and bear it, but he stood—sat—corrected. Peter’s eyes were running over his body like he couldn’t help himself. His eyes caught on Wade’s erection and Wade _swore_ he felt the other man’s hips twitch. Peter _liked_ him.

Wade couldn’t convince himself that this was a bad idea anymore. He had become closer to Peter than to anyone else. He had somehow accidentally made a nest with the one person in the world who might be crazy enough to like him, and as much as he felt self-conscious, he wasn’t going to waste this. Peter was here, real, present, and willing. Wade wanted him, like, _yesterday._

“I want you to knot me.”

Peter caught his gaze, eyes growing wide, and he nodded. “Tell me what to do.” Peter’s hands were clenching and unclenching on the blankets; he seemed to be bursting with energy and not quite knowing what to do with it.

Wade wanted to tell him to touch him, hold him, but that was too much to ask. Seeing his skin and touching it were two very different things. “Can I take your shirt off, Petey-pie?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Wade slid his hands under Peter’s shirt and gently tugged it off over his head before Peter leaned back, resting his weight on his palms. If he thought seeing Peter’s abs when he hung off the ceiling was good, it was nothing to the feeling of them under his fingertips. His smooth skin felt almost cool under Wade’s heat-warmed hands. Peter’s eyes fluttered closed, arching towards Wade.

Wade couldn’t resist. He moved forward until his hips were settled directly on Peter’s, grinding down until he could feel their lengths pressed together. The sound from Peter was so sweet—a choked off breath, caught in his throat like a gasp—that Wade couldn’t help but rock forward again, barely suppressing his own whine.

Wade wished he weren’t in heat, because on a regular day, this might have been enough. Gently rocking against Peter and watching him try to catch his breath was more than he ever thought he’d have. As it was, he felt empty and aching; he needed _more._

Wade slipped his fingers into the waistband of Peter’s sweatpants. The alpha nodded at him before he could even get the question out, lying back so Wade could tug them down his hips. He shouldn’t have been so surprised that Peter wasn’t wearing underwear— _I wonder, does he wear anything underneath his Spidey-suit?_ —but seeing the other man all laid out for him, dick rigid and swollen red, made his brain fuzz out.

“Oh, fuck. I didn’t think—do you have a condom?” Peter asked, looking up at him.

“Nope! My cancer means no STIs, and no babies,” Wade said, trying to ignore the twinge of unhappiness at that last point. “Thank the author for a mutation-based deus ex machina; no condoms needed. I mean… unless you don’t want…?” He looked uncertainly at Peter, but the alpha was already motioning him back to straddle him again.

“We can do anything you want, Wade. I’ll do _anything_ you want me to do.” Peter sounded so sure about that that Wade wanted to ask him to do something ridiculous, like cover himself in maple syrup, but all he could think about was _this_. Here. Now.

Wade settled over his hips, grinding against his length until it was covered with slick. Wade watched his brown eyes as he caught Peter’s tip and slowly sank himself down onto it. Where those eyes had been warm before, they were now _hot_ , pupils blown wide and looking at Wade with an intensity that made him shiver.

Peter felt _so good_ inside of him, and _so right_. The ache in his core fizzled out to a pulsing pleasure. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat, echoed by Peter’s. _Holy fuck. Baby boy is_ into _this_.

Wade started to rock gently against him again. He could see Peter’s eyes running over his body, and it made the heat under his skin flicker. “I want—” Wade swallowed the words before they could betray him.

The alpha’s hands twitched toward Wade, then went back to grasping at the blankets. “Tell me what you want.” Peter’s eyes were so bright, so insistent, that Wade couldn’t help but respond honestly.

“I want you to touch me.”

“ _Yes._ ” Peter almost hissed the word, reaching for Wade like he had been waiting for this.

Peter touched him exactly how Wade had dreamed he would, hands mapping his body. It was as if Peter could tell the parts he didn’t like about himself and touched him there intentionally, stroking his broad shoulders, massaging his legs. With every touch, the alpha rubbed his scent all over his skin. Peter’s hands found the inside of his thighs, seeking out the swollen scent glands there, pressing them with his thumbs, and Wade felt a shock like electricity running up his spine.

“Can I kiss you?” Peter looked so honest, so sincere, that Wade felt overwhelmed. Instead of replying, he leaned down, finding Peter’s lips with his own. Peter’s hands found his neck, and then his mouth was everywhere, kissing along Wade’s jaw and down his neck, sucking gently. Wade felt like he was going to collapse, his movement stuttering in his distraction.

“Fuck _me_ ,” Wade whispered to himself, almost incoherent.

Peter took that as an instruction, too. He had sat up before, chasing Wade’s lips, but now he nestled back against the mattress, pulling Wade closer. Peter planted his hands on Wade’s hips and picked him up effortlessly, thoughtlessly showing off that super-strength once again as he thrust into his heat, and _fuck_ , that angle was _perfect_ , and Wade was overwhelmed, falling apart all over again, a thousand sparks running up and down his body, and he was _so close_ to the edge, but he needed that last jolt, that last bit—

And then he felt Peter’s knot, a bulge at the base of his shaft, moving further and further up before it was pressing at his entrance, and Wade pressed down as hard as he could, chasing that fullness, that feeling of completion—

Peter came beneath him, _his_ hips stuttering and thrusting upward one last time, knot edging inside of him, locking them together, and Wade was coming harder than he ever remembered coming in his life, and he collapsed onto his alpha, completely spent.

When Wade came back to himself, Peter was cradling him, stroking his back and legs, scenting him. Peter, his alpha, who had said he could keep him.

“Baby boy.”

“Wade, love.”

“Can I keep you?”

Peter laughed, and Wade felt it through their joined bodies. “Of _course_. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He continued to caress Wade for a minute before adding, “I want to talk to you after your heat, though. I want you to be able to tell me yes without anything in the way, love.”

Wade agreed, but for Peter’s sake, not his own. He would keep his Spidey-Baby as long as he was allowed, even if that ended up just being until Peter’s head cleared at the end of this heat. They settled into a comfortable silence for a while, Wade resting his head in the crook of Peter’s neck, letting his scent wash over him.

“When did I get you hard before, Petey-pie?” Wade was on the verge of sleep, but he wanted to know, before he had to get up and face being a clean rational human for the next couple of hours.

Peter was nuzzling into his neck too, and Wade felt the breath of his laugh. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to. I mean, I’m happy with how we ended up, but well… it was when you purred.”

Of all the things Wade was imagining, it wasn’t that. “ _Why?_ ” He demanded. He couldn’t find anything attractive whatsoever in his own purr. It was too low, too much like an alpha growl… But then again, Peter seemed to like his other un-omega-like features just fine, too.

“Yeah, I know I’m weird, sorry! It was just… You were so comfortable, and you trusted me, and it vibrated the whole mattress. And it felt awesome...” Peter trailed off, sounding embarrassed. “I thought you noticed. I thought that’s why you left, and why you didn’t text me back.”

“Oh _no_ , baby boy! Of course not! If I had noticed, I would have sucked your dick!” Wade hadn’t necessarily meant to say that out loud, but Peter’s responding laughter and soft brush of lips against his neck was totally worth it.

“So… why _did_ you leave?”

Wade considered. He had felt so worthless, so _wrong_ , but now? Knowing that Peter wanted him, just like he was? “It’s not important right now.” And he pressed his lips against Peter’s neck, just because he _could_.

Eventually, Peter’s knot went down enough for him to slip out. Wade still felt boneless, and rolled off of the alpha, figuring he would want to change position. Peter let out a small whine, but gave Wade a kiss and moved to get up.

“Are you… leaving?” Wade felt like punching himself, he sounded pitiful.

“Oh! No, of course not, I’m coming right back. Stay here, I’ll just be a second.” Wade listened as Peter bustled around the apartment, eventually coming back with a soft damp cloth. He expected Peter to just toss it to him, but instead, he knelt by his side and gently cleaned Wade’s skin—much more gently than he would have himself. The cloth was warm, and before he knew it, Peter had him bundled up in clean blankets and was cuddling into his side, nestling against him.

Wade felt so content. He knew he could trust Peter, and everything felt so cozy. Their nest was _perfect_ , and being in it _together_ felt _so good_ …

This time, knowing what was happening, it was easy to slip into purring. Wade could see Peter’s face, pressed into his chest, and he could see his mouth split into a grin, before—

“Oh fuck.”

That gave him pause. “What’s wrong?”

Peter looked up at Wade, a sheepish smile on his face. “I need to quit having this reaction. I love that sound, honey, but…”

Wade could suddenly feel the outline of an erection pressed against his hip.

{Oh _yes._ }

[I think we can figure out how to deal with that.]

Wade pulled Peter up into a kiss.


	16. Epilogue

Peter could tell Wade felt nervous. He had met Aunt May before, of course, but only ever as Deadpool; Peter had _tried_ to convince him that saving Lucy was a good first impression, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“I’m meeting your _family_ , Petey-pie! I’m meeting the person who raised you for the second first time, which is even worst than a regular first time! What if she doesn’t like me? What if Lucy hates my face?”

Peter gave his boyfriend a kiss.

“Wade. I know they’ll like you because they already _do_ like you. It’ll be okay, alright?”

Wade didn’t have time to reply before the door to Aunt May’s apartment swung open, revealing a beaming Lucy.

“Uncle Peter! Uncle Wade! Come in, Aunt May’s frosting my cake!” Lucy bounced back into the main apartment, leaving them to trail behind. Peter shot Wade a grin, loving the shocked look on his face.

The apartment was much the same as Peter remembered it, but now, there was evidence of the little girl everywhere he looked. There were more books on the floor and the couch, and a knit doll that he thought he recognized as his aunt’s work. The door down the hall that led to his old bedroom now had a construction paper hanging that read “LUCY” in rainbow glitter.

And then there was Aunt May herself, beaming at them from across the kitchen. “I’m glad you could make it today, boys! Come here, set the table, I’ll be out in a second!”

Peter stepped forward and brought out cake plates to Wade, who seemed to still be frozen in the doorway, listening to Lucy chatter. “See, I told you it would be alright,” he whispered, planting a kiss on Wade’s cheek before handing him the plates and ushering him toward the table, heading back to the kitchen for forks.

“Here we go!” Aunt May brought out the cake, which read “Happy Adoption Day, Lucy!” in purple letters, the sides covered in rainbow sprinkles. Peter had known that Aunt May would want to keep her, but he was surprised the process had gone as well as it had. He was so happy Aunt May had another person to love on.

He looked at May handing Wade a slice of cake with a wink and corrected himself. Another _two_ people. He placed a hand on Wade’s leg under the table. Wade looked as happy as he did, and Peter hoped he knew that he considered _him_ family, now, too. Peter didn’t ever want to let him go.

Conversation around the cake was easier than Peter thought it would be. Lucy was surprisingly easy for Wade to talk to, chattering about school and projects and some of Peter’s old teachers, and pulling out her collection of glitter pens to draw on his arms, which seemed to make both of them quite happy.

The afternoon passed quickly, and soon they were ready to leave. Aunt May stopped them at the door and pulled out a box. “Wade, this is for you,” she said, handing it to him. Peter suppressed a grin; he already knew what was coming. “I knit another sweater, this time for Spider-Man’s _boyfriend_ ,” she said with a laugh, and Wade’s eyes lit up. He opened the box and pulled out a second Spider-Man sweater, identical to Peter’s but about three sizes larger.

Before Peter knew it, Wade was covering Aunt May with a hug, leaning into her full force. May had to step back a few steps, but she was grinning anyway. “Welcome to the family, Wade.”

Wade pulled back, eyes cloudy. “Thanks, Aunt May! I love it,” he said, pulling on the sweater.

Peter thought he looked adorable.

Wade was quiet on the way home. “I didn’t know they’d be so nice.”

Peter wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. He’d get Wade used to kindness eventually.

“Can I keep them?”

“It’s a package deal, love. Yeah, you can keep us.”

Wade planted a kiss on Peter’s head. Peter hoped he’d get to keep Wade forever, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and thank you so much to my fantastic beta reader, CuteAsAMuntin!


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